Bad Burgers Make The World Go Round
by aranenumenesse
Summary: Logan was in a cranky mood.
1. Chapter 1

Logan was in a cranky mood. Last night hadn't gone according to his plans. He had had his sights set to a gorgeous redhead from the minute he walked in to the bar. Legs up to her neck, delicious, full lips and eyes that spoke to something inside of him. More accordingly, redhead spoke to him, just before he entered to the cage.

"I'm going home with the winner tonight…"

He had beaten man after another, ten in a row if you counted the MC that he had the sudden urge to knock over just out of principle. Bastard was getting all too cozy, hiding in his own barricaded corner. Ten. Without even breaking a sweat. And next time he saw the redhead she was headed out of the door with some blonde, clean-cut boy-toy who could have been her fucking son.

Desperate times called for desperate actions. Redhead had been the only even mildly interesting woman in that joint, nobody wanted to fight anymore, so that left nothing but booze for him. After fifteen shots of tequila bartender refused to serve him any more.

Generally speaking he wasn't a mean drunk. Generally. But it riled him up to no end when people started to shy away from him. Men and women alike. He liked his own space, even more than most of the people, but when the crowd around him started to cast long glances at him from the corner of their eyes and scooting even further from him… Hell. They were asking him to smack some sense in to their thick heads. Right?

Wrong. At least according to the sheriff who had turned up, collected him surprisingly easily and thrown him to jail to sober up some. He had been released two hours ago, with strict instructions to leave the town immediately.

To say he was in a cranky mood was probably an understatement, when you added to the growing list of his misfortunes the fact that he had the mother of all hangovers pounding inside of his head with vengeance. It wasn't often when he had to suffer from ill effects of the booze in the next morning, but when it happened… There were moments when he feared he would die. Then came moments he feared that he would live after all.

To say he was in a cranky mood was to say that the Pope just might be a little bit catholic. On top of that he was hungry as hell. Downright ravenous. And traffic was murder. Who would have thought that town of this size could house this many people with a car? And why the fuck they all had to be going down the same road as him?

He tried to wrestle his way through the sea of pick-ups and SUV's, head pounding and stomach growling when his motorcycle started to act out. It would stutter and cough, threaten to die on him on this very moment when he saw the Heaven.

Well, it wasn't The Heaven with Pearly Gates, just a greasy pit at the side of the road, but neon sign blinking in front of it advertised food, gas and service. To him it was sure sign that somebody up there had decided to grant him a small reprieve.

Maybe, just maybe he wasn't paying proper attention. Maybe, just maybe he had his eyes glued to the redhead from the previous night, who was at the moment lounging on the hood of a deep red convertible with very little excuse of a bikini on. But the truth was, that the girl with roller skates, wearing waitresses' pink and white uniform and carrying a tray loaded with burgers and fries came out of nowhere. He barely managed to avoid the collision with her. She wasn't as lucky. Tray went flying, and for a moment it was raining burgers and fries. She made a small thud when she careened straight against a trash bin before toppling over on her hands and knees.

Marie's day just kept getting better with every passing moment. It all had started nice enough, with her alarm clock breaking down. She came to work half an hour late. Nate, owner of the BurgerHeaven wasn't pleased. And wasn't buying her explanation. He told her he would take the half an hour she was late from her next paycheck.

She had gotten on her uniform, fresh from the cleaners. It had been clean and fresh exactly ten minutes, before one of the customers had spilled coffee on her. Woman had apologized, but she knew her. Adele never made mistakes or accidents. But she made Marie's life a living hell.

She had gone to the backroom to clean up the mess Adele had made when Nate had barged in, demanding that she return to the floor immediately. And put on skates. It was her turn to serve outside.

She had taken the skates from her locker, with feeling of dread hanging over her head. She hadn't had much practice with skating, and now Nate expected her to keep her balance on a cracked pavement while carrying a tray and avoiding guys who tried to pinch her behind every time she rolled by?

She managed nearly half an hour before first accident happened. She bumped against a fender of a car that somebody had parked too close of the lane that Nate had reserved for skating waitresses. She found her balance quickly enough, but the owner of the car tried to claim that she had scratched his precious bumper. And Nate agreed with him, because in BurgerHeaven the customer was always right. No matter that the car was so old, scratched and dented, that Marie had to wonder how the driver could tell which scratches were newer than others.

To save the precious reputation of the BurgerHeaven Nate offered free burgers and fries for the owner of the car for the whole year as a compensation. Of course he was going to take them out of Marie's salary.

She had been still a bit frazzled from the collision and the end result of it. She probably was a bit distracted as well. And not at ease on skates. But the motorcycle came out of nowhere. Big mountain of black leather and glittering chrome, engine purring and rumbling like a hungry beast. She just barely managed to avoid it, then the wheels of her left skate got stuck to a crack on the ground. For a second it felt like she could keep her balance after all, but then mother nature remembered her, and added all kinds of neat physic's laws and powers. Tray she was carrying flew from her hands, skate slid off from the crack and she stumbled against a trash bin before falling to the ground and skinning her hands and knees.

"This is going out of your salary," she heard Nate's voice from somewhere up and behind her. She couldn't help it. She sat up and started to laugh. She was laughing so hard that her stomach hurt.

"Out… Out of my salary?" She giggled with her eyes watering. Nate nodded, looking at her perplexed.

"Yeah. What's so funny about it?" He asked. She breathed deeply, collecting her thoughts, trying to stifle hysterical giggles.

"After everything you have already taken out of my salary, there's nothing left to take anymore you twit!" She screamed from the top of her lungs, tearing open laces of her skates and throwing them at Nate's feet. Apron and stupid looking, frilly hat all waitresses in BurgerHaven were expected to wear soon followed.

"I'm sick and tired of this shit. I'll quit. Have a nice life, Nate…" She muttered, standing up and wiping her bloodied palms to her uniform before turning and walking away.

Redhead was with the guy she had left the bar in the previous night. No worth the hassle. He drove his motorcycle around the building and found the service station as the neon sign had promised. Mechanic promised to look at it for the first thing after Logan flashed a decent wad of cold cash to his direction.

Mechanic looked like he knew his business. Logan left him with his motorcycle, and strolled in to BurgerHeaven. Place was as greasy as it gets, but tried to keep up the pretence that it was something classy. Somebody had even had a bright idea to arrange a play corner for the kids. Logan seriously doubted that any parent with his or her sanity intact would bring their child over here. Stench of burned oil and stale meat hung in the air heavy and sticky.

"What can I get you, honey?" Blonde woman in her thirties asked. Dry hair, too much make-up and perfume, and an uniform that was ready to burst open from the front at any minute now from the sheer mass of breasts it was holding.

"Burger, rare. Fries. You got any beer?" He asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose, trying to vanquish persistent feeling of nausea and tiredness. Woman smiled, flashing him a row of nicotine-stained teeth, smearing generous amount of dark red lipstick over them in the process.

"Sure, honey. Can I get anything else for you?"

"Yeah. The chick I nearly ran over when I drove here. How is she?" In general he wasn't a caring person, but somehow he felt that the accident wasn't completely the girl's fault.

"Who? Oh, you mean Marie! She left," waitress said, plunking a bottle of Molson's in front of him.

"Left? Was she hurt?" Logan asked slightly worried. Waitress pssahhed and waved with her hand, causing brightly colored plastic bracelets rattle against each other on her wrist. Like a rattler. Shiver run down Logan's spine.

"She was alright. And better off now. I'd leave too if it wasn't my youngest still in school. Nate pays jack shit, but I need every penny I can scrounge up."

Waitress left him as soon as it became apparent that he wasn't going to pay jack shit about her personal dilemmas. All he was worried right now was to eat his burger before it grew legs and walked out on him. Steak had been fresh probably some time last week. He wasn't going to complain. He was too hungry, and his mutation would take care of any ill effects bad burger could cause. At least he hoped so.

"Idiot!" She kicked the pebbles on her way as she went, and ranted to herself. Sure. Nate was a bastard. Sure. Every fucking customer was a bastard. Sure, paycheck she recieved at the end of every week hardly covered her rent and what she ate. Sure. Work at the BurgerHeaven sucked in every possible aspect, but now she was out of work, out of money, and soon she would be out of apartment as well. And nobody around here except Nate was desperate enough to hire a mutant.

Scrapes and cuts on her palms and knees were still bleeding a bit, and she kept wiping the blood to her skirt. It had seen worse. It had seen kitchen duty. It had seen toilet cleaning duty.

Sun was high on the sky. Half noon. Tomorrow she would have to go to her landlady and tell her that she wouldn't be able to pay her rent for the coming week.

"Stupid, stupid…" She kept kicking and cussing until she was out of breath and dizzy. She sat on the side of the road to rest for a while. She needed to think. She needed a plan of what to do next. She kept her head lowered. She couldn't afford a pair of sunglasses, and she was prone to migraines. She wasn't about to acquire one now. Cars and motorbikes roared past her, raining dust and small pebbles on her.

Suddenly a shadow fell over her, and she lifted her gaze, squinting her eyes just in case. She was staring at the monster from the BurgerHeaven. Her eyes followed a denim clad leg swung over the side of the bike until she reached brown leather. A jacket. She skipped the rest and moved her gaze straight to the face of the man that drove the motorcycle. Big. Mean looking. Scruffy with weird, pointy hair and muttonchops.

"Are you alright, kid?"


	2. Chapter 2

His stomach wasn't complaining too much, and mechanic actually had known what he was doing. His motorcycle was up and ready when he finished his fries and the beer. He gunned the engine, intending to drive out of Dodge before sheriff got the whiff that he was still in town. Last thing he wanted, last thing he needed was to get on the wrong side of the law permanently. Cover story and ID he had gotten from professor Xavier as a part of payment for services were good, but they weren't that good. Anybody with little curiosity and too much time on their hands would blow his disguise to the kingdom to come.

He squinted his eyes. There was a pale blotch on the side of the road. From this distance he couldn't tell what it was, but he could see it was moving. Could have been just some garbage thrown out of the passing car. Could be a human. Well, he would be reaching it soon enough, what ever it was.

Closer he got the surer he got it was a human. And soon he could even identify her. It was the waitress from the BurgerHeaven. The one he nearly drove over. He slowed down and stopped in front of her, sun behind his back. She looked like she had been sitting out here for a while now, covered in dust and dirt, and something… Was that all blood?

"Are you alright, kid?" He asked. Suddenly he was worried. Very worried. Girl moved a bit, and turned to look at him. Young. Tired. Angry.

"Considering you nearly ran over me and caused me to loose my job…" She muttered.

"Are you alright? You're bleeding." He got off from his motorcycle and crouched next to the girl, reaching for her hands. She hissed and scooted away from him.

"I'm not going to hurt you!" He huffed and tried again. Girl swatted his hands away.

"Don't touch me. I'm a mutant. My skin kills."

A mutant? What were the odds? Could she be the person Xavier had sent him to look for? Old geezer had told him to look out her skin. She could absorb life and power from other mutants.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked. Girl flicked an icy glare to his direction.

"And what is it to you, Wolverine?" She spat venomously, emphasizing every syllable of his name like it was the worst insult on the face of the earth.

For a moment man looked perplexed, much as Nate had been after her outburst at the front of BurgerHeaven. Then he shook his head and slid the dog tag that had been dangling on his chest under white T-shit he wore under his jacket.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked again. This time there was a sharper edge in his tone. Look on his face that had earlier turned from mean to concerned transformed to downright pissed within a second. Somehow she got the feeling that it would be a good idea to answer.

"Marie D'Ancanto."

Now the man was smiling. It didn't quite reach his eyes, but it was definitely an improvement. He didn't look like he could gut her to where she sat anymore.

"Nice to meet you, Marie D'Ancanto. I have been looking for you." His smile turned to a wolfish, greedy grin, and this time it went all the way up to his eyes. He was evaluating her like he was starving, and she was a good, juicy and rare steak.

This was it. His ticket to that nice cabin up north Xavier had promised to him if he delivered certain little miss mutant at his doorstep before Magneto and his goons got their paws on her. Not that he had anything against the man, but somehow he felt more comfortable with Xavier and his loony bunch than with old buckethead and his crew.

She looked about ready to bolt and scream bloody rape and murder. He tried to summon less feral impression on his face. No use to scare the shit out of her. Better they got along, faster he got her to Xavier. For a second he was at loss. What to do? Then he decided to choose the way he always chose. Well, most of the times. Okay. Almost always. Oh, for fuck's sake, he wasn't a saint. He lied. Quite often. But somehow it felt that this was the time when telling the truth would solve the problem.

"There's a mutant called Magneto. He's after you. And he doesn't want you because you can flip some mean burgers. I work for a guy who can protect you from him. Professor Xavier. He sent me to find you and take you to Westchester before Magneto finds you." He wasn't sure how truthful he sounded, but that was the God honest truth. Xavier had sent him to this mission. About six months ago. Sure, he had been AWOL for some time, enjoying the finer aspects of life with the half of the reward Xavier had coughed up beforehand, but better later than never, right?

First she just stared at him, wide-eyed, mouth gaping open. Then deep frown settled over her features and she stood up, brushing off accumulated dirt from her skirt, smearing even more blood on it in the process.

"Very nice. Who put you in to this? Nate? Nicole? Or was it Adele?"

"Huh?" It was his turn to stare at her quizzically.

"You can go back and tell them I went for it. For a moment I actually believed you. You can go back and tell that to them, and then you can all have a good laugh at my expense," she sighed and started walking down the road, shoulders sagging and her gaze fixed to the ground at her feet.

It took him a while to realize that she thought he was only joking with her.

"Wait!" She didn't stop. She didn't even acknowledge that she had heard him, just kept walking and kicking small dust clouds high up in the air with her worn sneakers. The motorcycle nearly toppled over him when he kicked off the stand. It was a struggle, but he managed to keep it upright and started half walking half jogging after her.

"Wait! Kid! Oh, shit…"

It wasn't working. She kept walking and muttering to herself angrily, not sparing even a glance at his direction. He hopped on the saddle and gunned the engine.

"Have it your way, then, kid…"

On top of everything they just had to have this. The last pun. Let them. She wasn't going to care. She'd pack her bags tonight and leave this shithole of a town tomorrow morning. The first decent looking truck that came her way, she'd hitch a ride to anywhere. Hell, even next town would do for the lack of a better destination.

Heavy engine roared to life behind her. The man, Wolverine was probably getting ready to go back to Adele. Adele. That bitch. Always picking on her. Well, let him go. Let them laugh. She wasn't going to rot in this shithole for long anymore.

Several things happened simultaneously. She kicked a pinecone hard enough to send her shoe flying after it. She nearly tripped over. Roar of the motorcycle got suddenly louder, and something, a hand, wrapped around her waist and she was hoisted up in the air with a force that blew her one remaining sneaker off as well. Wolverine. He pulled her in front of him on the saddle of his motorcycle and secured her there with one strong hand, steering the monster with other. Motorcycle swerved slightly, but straightened out soon.

She was too shocked to struggle. She was too shocked to even scream when scenery flew past her at alarming pace. She could only clutch at the arm surrounding her waist. She was sure that if he ever wanted her to let go, somebody would have to pry her fingers open with a crowbar.

"I'm not going to hurt you, kid! Just relax!" she could hear him shouting over the wind and engine.

Relax? Was he fucking insane? Or just very, very not good at kidnapping people? She was pondering whether she should give him a lesson in proper kidnapping etiquette when he started to slow down, and finally turned the motorcycle to a half empty parking lot of a run down motel, parking it in front of a door number eight.

"I'm not going to hurt you, but it's important to keep you away from Magneto. I'm taking you to Xavier, and after that you can decide what to do. Until we get to Westchester you do as I tell you. Understood?" Harsh, but he lacked the patience. He wasn't about to start coddling and cooing. He wasn't going to negotiate. She was coming with him. Even if he had to restrain and gag her. He tried to remember if he had packed any rope with him. Probably not. But it wouldn't be too hard to come by if needed.

He carried her to the door and plunked her down on the wooden platform. He needed his both hands to find the key and open the door. She just sat at his feet. He was prepared. If she tried to run he was ready to bolt after her, but it looked like it wouldn't be necessary. She looked dazed. Speechless and unable to move. All the better for him.

"Sit." He had helped her up and pushed her in the room. There really was nothing else to sit on but the messed up bed. Obviously her new 'friend' was less peaceful sleeper, and maids in this fleabag motel didn't bother to straighten up beds. She sat down carefully. He kicked the door shut and crouched in front of her, reaching for her hands and taking a firm grip from her wrists. At some point, probably at the same time he had looked for the key of this room from his pockets he had pulled on black leather gloves.

"Shit… You scraped yourself good, kid. Bathroom's over there. There should be at least one clean towel left. Go and wash off the blood. I'll see if I have something for you to wear, okay?" He murmured almost gently and pushed her towards the bathroom door. To get there she had to pass the door to outside. She glanced at it quickly. He was rummaging through a knapsack at the corner, his back turned to her.

"Don't even think about it. I'll hunt you down and spank your pretty little ass black and blue if you try to run away from me…"

Did he have eyes on his back? Some kind of sixth sense?

"I won't… I won't run away…" She whispered hastily darting in to the bathroom and locking the door behind her.

"Wait, take these in there!" She heard him shouting. She opened the door slowly, suspicious of what he meant. 'These' appeared to be an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. She took them from him and closed the door. Then pushed it open again.

"Thanks."

Door closed again. Lock clicked. He could hear clothes rustling, then shower running. His clothes would do now. Later, when he didn't have to be afraid of her running, they could swing by her place and pick up her stuff. But he wasn't going to leave this room with her before she trusted him. Speaking of which, he'd better lock the door. He was going to take a shower after she was done. He reeked of booze, cigars and that cell the good sheriff had thrown him in last night. Not the most pleasant combination when you added the stench of grease and burnt meat from the BurgerHeaven on top of that. BurgerHeaven. He snorted. BurgerHell would have been more accurate.

She was taking her sweet time in that shower. He had already flipped through channels available in the old black and white TV that stood in the corner, and was thumbing through some magazine somebody had left to the room earlier. Was it possible to drown in to the shower? He wasn't sure about it. Maybe he should go and check if she was okay. She did have quite a nasty tumble with that trash bin, and his sudden bright idea to snatch her from the side of the road could have caused some damage to her ribs.

He stood up from the bed stretching his back and groaning. Yeah. It was definitely time to head back to Xavier's. Now there was a decent lodging for a man. Comfortable bed. Spacious rooms. Delicious food you didn't have to guess of what it was made of, and more importantly when. Free booze, and not so free, but extremely good looking women wandering around in skintight leather. Well, not exactly wandering. More like dashing and bolting and jumping and running, all their good parts jiggling…

"Shit… Kid! You drown in there or what's taking so long?" He shouted and gave the bathroom door few firm knocks with his knuckles. He knew how to knock. And he was going to be polite and give her a minute to get out of the shower and in to those clothes he had given her before he kicked the door open.

"Minute's up! Ready or not, here I come!"

Door came ajar surprisingly easily. And revealed an empty shower stall, and equally empty bathroom with one small window hanging wide open.

"Shit." He hadn't even thought about the window. And why? Because the freaking thing was so small and narrow that it was impossible for him to imagine anybody squeezing out through that opening. Suddenly his eyes narrowed. Something pink and crimson was peeking from behind the toilet seat. He pulled it out. Her uniform. Soaked with generous amount of her blood. Practically reeking of her. And many other scents still left from the BurgerHeaven, but he was able to identify her own unique scent from the mix.

"Not so clever after all…"

He took his time in the shower. Now that he got her scent, it wouldn't be hard to track her down. For a moment he contemplated if he should get rid of the erection he had gotten just by thinking of certain leather clad redhead from Xavier's crew, but decided against it. It was hard to keep picturing Jeannie when that D'Ancanto chick's scent wafted around him in the steam and cling to his skin. Every time he tried, fiery copper turned to chocolate brown and white. And he wasn't that big of a bastard yet. He wasn't going to start fantasizing about strange women, no matter how good looking they were.

She was half way to her home when distant echo of a thunder rumbled through the air. Weather had been hot, air humid, heavy and sticky. It looked like it was going to change soon. She let out a relieved sigh. For once something went her way. Maybe she would get rid of the annoying headache that had been pestering her for the good part of this week.

Getting out of the bathroom had been easy. It had been even easier to walk off from the motel. Granted, her apartment was on the other side of the town, good five kilometers from the motel, and she had no shoes on, but she wasn't going to sit back and let that freak kidnap her, no matter if he wasn't going to hurt her. And that ridiculous story he had offered as an explanation… He could have gotten all the details about her, including her name and her mutation from the people working at the BurgerHeaven. Magneto? Professor Xavier? How stupid he thought she was?

She had been hoping she could find a ride out of this town, but she wasn't as desperate yet that she would leave sitting in the back of a motorcycle driven by an obvious lunatic. Who knew what intentions he had. And that name. Wolverine. Who the hell called himself Wolverine? His name must have been as fake as his wild story about how he was sent to rescue her from the clutches of some evil super mutant.

She huffed exasperated and pulled up pants that had crept too low for her tastes again. He was a big fucker. In an emergency situation she could use the clothes he had given her as a tent. For a moment she stood in front of the sheriff's office. Should she go in and warn the man about some strange guy who had the weird urge to drive around and kidnap mutie babes? She decided against it. She wasn't that fond of Earl, the sheriff. Earl wasn't fond of muties. Sure, his occupation forced him to stay at least speaking terms with every citizen in this godforsaken shithole of a town, but every conversation with him was at best strained. She wasn't in the mood of fake chitchatting and forced politeness. She was in the mood to getting home and in her own clothes that fit. She could stay in and plan her next move. She could pack her bags.

It didn't occur her before she was standing behind the locked door of her apartment. Her keys. She had left them to the pocket of her uniform. Which lay on a crumpled heap in the bathroom of the motel. Well, it had been too good to be true. She leaned her forehead against the door, and yelped surprised when the door opened, and Wolverine stood at the doorstep, smug smile on his face.

"Honey, I'm home! How was your day? Mine was absolute murder. Woke up with a decent hangover. Then bumped in to this chick I have been tracking down for the past six years. Guess what she did? Took my clothes and ditched me. Can you believe that?"

"How… Why…" She managed to stutter when Wolverine pulled her inside and closed the door.

"You were kind enough to leave the keys," he smirked, dangling her keychain in front of her, and snatching it away when she tried to grab it.

"Tut-tut… Pack your bags. We're going for a ride."


	3. Chapter 3

She slumped on the couch, defeated look on her face.

"Fine. You caught me. What it is that you want from me? You seemed to know about my mutation, but perhaps I should remind you about it. I have a lethal skin. You can't touch me."

"I already told you what I want. I have been paid to deliver you to a certain professor Xavier. He runs a school for mutants in Westchester. Some time ago his rival developed a machine. We don't know what it does, but what we do know is, that he needs you to operate that machine. Magneto's not the most sane or sensible man on this earth. What ever that machine of his is built for… Trust me, it isn't good."

She rubbed her face tiredly. Sunstroke. She must have gotten a sunstroke, because there was no other reason for why his story was starting to make sense to her.

"But why me?" She asked, trying to find something, anything that would get her out of this hook.

"We don't know. But Magneto's goons have been looking for you ever since he finished working with his machine. A girl who's able to absorb life, and mutations as well," her kidnapper finished his story. For a moment they sat in silence.

"Look… I have had a shitty day. I may have been taking it out on you. I'm sorry about that. How about we start this over?" Man suddenly asked and extended his gloved hand. She took it and he squeezed gently.

"I'm Logan. And I really came to help you."

"I'm Marie. And I really would like to believe you, because I have had a shitty life and today it got even worse. I need a place to stay because I lost my job and I can't afford to pay rent."

"Pack your stuff. I have a truck waiting outside. I'll take you to Westchester."

"Promise?"

"I promise. I'll… I'll go and wait outside. When you're finished, come to the café opposite this building."

There was every possibility that she chose to flee again. In that case he would hunt her down and really smack some sense in to her. Woman or no woman, he wasn't the type to go around telling people three times what they're supposed to do.

He ordered a cup of coffee. He'd much rather have a beer to chase off the hangover that still sat on his shoulders, but it wasn't the way to solve the problem now. He'd have to stay clear headed. There was every possibility that Mystique or Toad was somewhere near. Hell, he had managed to found Marie and he wasn't even looking for her that eagerly. Mystique's and Toad's living depended on finding her.

Coffee was hot and black as a tar. He grimaced and took a careful sip. Decided to discard the spoon before the rest of it melted in to the hot liquid they called coffee in this place.

"Doesn't fucking anybody in this town know how to cook?" He muttered silently, staring at the front door of the apartment complex where Marie lived. There were several exits all around the building, but she would be leaving through the front door if she had come to her senses. Minutes ticked by. Turned to ten. Then twenty. Well, she was packing all her belongings.

Thirty. She probably had some neighbors she wanted to say good bye to.

Forty. Fucking half of the town. She'd decided to throw a farewell party.

Fifty. What the fuck could take so long?

And hour. Half empty coffee cup sat on the table, alone. Logan was crossing the street, his eyes glued to the door in front of him. She didn't have this much stuff to pack. She wasn't completely clueless or stupid. He had given her a promise. He intended to keep it even if he had to tie her to the back of his trailer with his motorcycle. One way or the other she was coming to Westchester with him.

After he closed the door behind him, she just sat on the couch for a moment. Westchester. Her would be –kidnapper appeared to be a nice guy after all. Probably. Maybe. She wasn't completely sure, but what the hell did she have to loose if she went with him? At worst the whole thing would turn out to be the last hoax from Adele and her friends. At best Logan had really told her the truth.

She rose from the couch and looked around in her small apartment. There was almost nothing she wanted to take with her. Clothes, some books and CD's. And Frank. Frank was her most beloved belonging, big brown teddy bear. She had gotten it from her father when she was just a kid, and all this, her crappy life and mutation, were things in the future.

First she changed to more comfortable clothes. She'd have to return sweatpants and the T-shirt to Logan ASAP or she would forget them. She put on comfortable pair of worn jeans, long sleeved green shirt and dug around in her small closet until she managed to find her old sneakers. Granted, the pair she had lost at the road when Logan had grabbed her was old, but these were even older. She wondered if she could ask Logan to buy her new shoes. Probably not. She shook her head and continued packing. Panties, bras and socks to the bottom, then her nightgowns. On top of those shirts and jeans. And on top of them Logan's shirt and pants.

She closed the bag, then opened a small pocket on the side of it and put in her favourite CD's. She wondered if Logan liked music. He didn't look like he would, but people were often full of surprises. If he did like music, what kind of it he listened? She could easily imagine him sitting on his motorcycle, and some kind of guitar was playing in the background. She shook her head. No. He most likely was not in to music.

She was almost ready, tying Frank on top of her bag with a piece of string when there was a knock on the door.

"Coming! You sure are in a hurry…" She cajoled walking to the door and opening it. Last words died in her throat. It wasn't Logan on the other side of the door. Instead of him there stood tall, blonde man. An obvious mutant, with black talons on his hands and wide smile that revealed perfect rows of sharp, gleaming fangs. She tried to shut the door, but the man was faster. He pushed his way in and forced her to back away.

"Marie D'Ancanto?" Man growled. Like a lion. She nodded, all the time backing away from him until she felt the wall of her apartment behind her back. Trapped.

"I have been looking for you for quite some time now. You're coming with me."

What was it with wild, feral mutant men today? First Logan, then this.

"Get in line. I already have a ride."

"I don't think so, girly… I have been busting my ass for the last five months to find you. You're coming with me now," man growled. Something dark appeared behind him to the doorway.

"I don't think so, bub. She's coming with me." Logan. The newcomer turned to look at him, giving Marie temporary escape. She fled to bathroom and locked the door.

He wasn't about to give his hard-earned reward to some mangy alley cat like Sabretooth. He had waltzed with him before, and he knew it would be a close call. With Sabretooth he couldn't be sure about his victory, but this time there were no other options. Logan would have to beat the crap out of him if he wanted to get out of here with Marie.

"Nice to see you, runt!" Sabretooth growled before grabbing him and throwing him on his back to the floor.

"It's nice to see you, too… Victor. Ready for your haircut?" Logan asked climbing back on his feet and releasing his claws. Six deadly metal appendages sprouted from his hands in a blink of an eye. Victor. Sabretooth hated that name. Magneto had gotten him in to believing that it was some sort of sign of submission, taint of human in him to have a human name instead of rather stupid sounding Sabretooth.

Sabretooth threw back his head, long jagged mane of his blonde hair falling down on his back and growled. Last time they had encountered each other Logan had knocked him unconscious and shaved his head. It had taken several months to grow it back even with the aid of his healing mutation.

Logan wasn't going to wait for an answer. Instead he barrelled straight against the bigger mutant, his shoulder in front, trying to push him out of the window. Fall from the third floor would take Sabretooth out of commission for few minutes, he could grab Marie and run. Except that good old Vic wasn't on board with that plan. Big lug dodged his attack with cat-like agility, and next thing Logan realized was the he was screwed.

Hanging in mid-air just outside of Marie's window, claws of his left hand plunged deep in to the window frame. Soon gravity would find him. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the inevitable. Retracted his claws to minimize the damage from the fall.

"Sorry about this, kid…" He muttered silently. Sabretooth was still on the window, scratching his head.

"Aren't you supposed to fall down?"

It took him a while to realize that Sabretooth's lack jawed amazement was justified. He wasn't falling. He wasn't going anywhere, just floating up in the air, facing Marie's apartment and Sabretooth in it's window.

"What the fuck…"

Jean. Had to be. Aside from Magneto he didn't know anybody who could manipulate him like this. Jean was somewhere close. And she didn't go anywhere without that pansy-ass of a husband of hers. Scott. They were both here. That meant that the whole crew of Xavier's, the X-men were here. Good. They could cough up the rest of the reward, kid would leave with them, and he could continue of what he did best. Minding his own business.

To his utter amazement Sabretooth let out a surprised gasp and floated out of the window. Jean sure had developed her skills from the last he had seen her in action. Juggling not one, but two muties at once?

"Looks like we're on the same flight. Peanuts?" Logan couldn't resist asking when Sabretooth floated next to him. Blonde mutant tried to punch him, but missed and ended up swirling around several times, spinning wildly around Logan like satellite on orbit. When he stopped Logan kicked him, sending him careening towards the brick wall of the building in front of them. Sabretooth collided and bounced back. Logan kicked again. This time Sabretooth was ready and grabbed his leg.

"Hey! No groping!" Suddenly Sabretooth had gotten surprisingly heavy. Only think keeping him up in the air was his hard grip from Logan, sharp talons anchored deep in his thigh.

"If I go down, at least part of you is going to come with me…" Cat-like monster purred, digging his claws even deeper in to the muscle, parting flesh and veins.

"Jean! Do something!" Logan shouted. Pain was unbearable. He could feel and hear when tendons keeping the muscle intact started to give up. Sabretooth would peel his leg like a fucking banana if Jean let him fall down now.

Familiar face surrounded by a mass of coppery hair appeared to the window of Marie's apartment. Pressure in his leg diminished and Sabretooth was floating again. Logan managed to slip free from his grasp and plunged his claws deep in to the other mutant's abdomen.

"Jean, let go! Now!" Sabretooth's eyes widened and he tried to grasp Logan's shoulders, but it was already too late. He was falling, and Logan's metal coated claws were slicing his gut to ribbons. Last swift yank to open his chest cavity, and Logan retracted his claws, letting mutilated mutant fall to the ground below. Sound of breaking glass and bending metal grated Logan's ears. His truck.

"Fuck me." Sabretooth had fallen smack dab in the middle of the hood of his truck, breaking the windshield and mangling the front of the vehicle completely.

When he floated back in to the apartment Scott Summer's, the leader of the X-Men was trying to persuade Marie to come out of the bathroom. He looked at Logan who landed next to him, his knees still slightly wobbly from his shortlived fight with Sabretooth.

"She won't come out."

"She will," Logan grunted and kicked the door open.

"Time to go, kid. These are the people I told you about earlier… Oh, for fuck's sake! I'm tired of this shit!"

Bathroom was empty. Lid of the air ventilation shaft was wide open. Shaft was wide enough for a small girl to crawl through, but even for Jean it would be a tight fit. For Scott or Logan it would be impossible to follow Marie.

Sun was setting. It had been raining for few hours, and her clothes were soaked through. It started to look like Logan had been telling the truth. Town was practically crawling with mutants. She had seen a blue-skinned woman and dirty, slimy looking man from a distance, as well as the monstrosity that had invaded her home earlier that day from a distance. She had seen other mutants as well, not so obvious as before mentioned ones. A man with red sunglasses. Two women with him, one with red hair, and one with dark skin and white hair. She hadn't seen Logan after she had locked herself in to the bathroom. She wasn't so sure if she even wanted to see him anymore. Her life hadn't been great before, but after he stumbled to her path it had started to suck royally. She didn't need or want all this attention. She didn't care if there was some fucking machine. She didn't care if there was some divine do-gooder named Xavier who wanted to help her. She just wanted to be left alone.

Violent sneeze nearly toppled her over and she had to brace herself against the wall of the alley she was hiding in.

"Great. And the day just keeps getting better…" On top of everything she was apparently developing flu.

Sound of footsteps approaching made her slink back in the shadows. Who ever it was, she didn't want to be found. She'd wait out here until the road was clear. Then she'd find a nice, decent trucker, preferably non-mutant and hitch a ride to somewhere far from here.

"How the hell am I supposed to keep my promise if you keep running away from me?" Whisper came from behind her, tickling the side of her face. She screamed and bolted away before realizing who it was. Logan. He stepped out of the shadows, looking positively murderous. Weird, pointy hair hanging limp around his face, clothes soaked through from the rain, leather of his coat gleaming wetly under the fluorescent light of the streetlamps.

"You scared the shit out of me!" She shreaked. Logan just grunted, dark shadows swirling in his eyes.

"Good. Now, be a good girl and come with me, and I don't have to put you on a leash. Deal?"

"No…" Her defiance was marred with sudden series of coughs and sneezes, and she had to lean against a trash bin to keep her balance.

"Yes. I'll take you to Scott and Jean. They'll take you to Westchester," Logan spoke with a clipped tone, grabbed her and slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Shit. You're sick." Girl was burning up. He could feel the heat radiating from her through layers of clothes he had on.

"I wouldn't be sick if you had left me alone…"

"You would be on your way to Magneto with Sabretooth if I had left you alone."

"No. I wouldn't. I'd be walking home right now. I'd still have my crappy job, and tomorrow Nate would probably order me to a permanent kitchen duty, because only thing I could really do in there was to cook."

"Right. Keep talking. If it makes you feel any better, my day wasn't any peachier than yours," he grunted, shifting her weight a bit so she rested on his shoulder more comfortably.

"Scott and Jean?" she suddenly asked, her whole body tensing.

"Yeah. They're working for Xavier. They're going to take you to Westchester." And give him a hefty reward for finding her.

"What about you?" Girl asked.

"What about me?" Logan asked puzzled.

"You said you'd take me there."

"What's the difference? With me you'd have to settle to a ride at the back of my cyke. Sabretooth trashed my truck. Scott and Jean have a jet. You'll be in Westchester in few hours."

"I hate flying…"

"Well, tough luck. That's the only mode of transportation right now. Besides I'm going to the wrong direction, anyway…"

He had been planning to tag along with Jean and Scott, but seeing them together only served to remind him of how taken Jean really was. It would be literal Hell to stay close quarters with her and not be able to nail her. Of course there was always Ororo, but she'd never really warmed up for him. Once it had been a close call. Just once. And after nearly getting caught by professor Xavier the good lady had clamped her thighs tightly shut.

No. There really wasn't any good reason to go to Xavier's, but several excellent reasons not to go.

"But you promised…"

"Yeah?" She wasn't going to get all mushy now, wasn't she? It wasn't like he had sworn his hand on the bible or anything. And in a sense he was making good of his promise, leaving her with people who would keep her safe.

She started squirming and nearly fell off from his shoulder. He had to grab a better hold of her, and he turned her on his front side, securing her against his chest before lowering her to the ground.

"I don't want to go alone…" Her face was turned up towards him. Eyes watering, those full lips trembling. He had seen it all before. On a face of dozens of women when they realized he wasn't going to stay put. It hadn't worked before. It shouldn't have worked now. But when he opened his mouth to say no, his treacherous vocal cords formed a completely different answer from which he wasn't liking a bit.

"I'll come with you."


	4. Chapter 4

He sat grumbling at the back of the Blackbird, state of the art jet while Jean fussed over Marie. Scott was in the cockpit with Ororo, preparing for the take-off. He could more feel than hear massive engines on each wing of the plane and the back of it quickening. There was still time. He could get up and leave before the lift-off. He had his money. Scott had dug up thick wad of his reward first thing when he entered the jet carrying Marie. He could… One look at Marie who was sitting at the front of the jet, strapped to a grey seat halted his thought process for a moment.

He couldn't leave. He was stuck with this geek-squad for now. At least as long as it took from the girl to get settled and comfortable. He grimaced. He was getting soft. Coddling a chick that hadn't given him anything but troubles from the moment he laid his eyes on her.

"Summers! Swing by her apartment! I want my motorcycle back!" He suddenly remembered that the beast that was his pride and joy was sitting abandoned on a trailer in front of Marie's apartment.

"Swing by? This isn't a buss, Wolverine! If you want your bike, get out and go get it!" Scott shouted back.

Wolverine. There was it again. That name. And Logan didn't look like he liked it very much. Grim expression on his face got even darker and he stood up. Was he going to leave? She unbuckled the seatbelt Jean had buckled just few minutes ago and bolted up. Logan cocked his head.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Are you… Are you leaving?" She asked with a quivering voice. She hated that weak tone, but it was all she could muster up right now.

"No. I'm going to remind our good captain that the customer's always right. Sit tight, Summers isn't exactly Top Gun material." She managed a weak chuckle and slumped back to her seat. To her surprise Logan nodded and ruffled her hair gently before walking down the aisle towards the cockpit.

Softening? Definitely. Somehow he found it hard to care when he managed to bring a smile on her face with such simple gesture. And right now he had more pressing issues to handle. He leaned over the backrest of the pilot's chair, bringing his mouth close to Scott's ear.

"Guess where my left hand is right now?" He whispered. Scott shivered.

"I don't even want to know where your hand is," he hissed. Logan smirked and licked his lips.

"Let's just say that if I got the sudden urge to skewer something… Your ass is going to end shish kebab… We are going back to get my motorcycle, right?" He whispered. He could see Adam's apple on Scott's throat bobble up and down when Scott swallowed. He was clearly thinking a way out of this.

"Or… I could mess up the wiring of your baby…" He purred, voice still low enough for only Scott to hear and moved to stand on his left side, leaning his back against a column that hid all the important cables in the Blackbird. Scott cleared his throat.

"Jean, Ororo. Fasten your seatbelts. We're going to get Logan's bike."

Again Logan leaned closer.

"I knew you would come to your senses…" He whispered, his lips practically grazing Scott's earlobe. Scott jerked forward from the contact.

"And it's motorcycle. I leave bikes to pansies like you," he couldn't resist quipping before returning to the back of the plane and strapping a seatbelt on.

Maybe Logan wasn't the bad guy after all. Sure, he had a nasty habit on sneaking up on her and kidnapping her, but it looked like he was going to treat her like anybody else. He wasn't scared of her skin. He had even touched her. Granted, he had his gloves still on, but for some reason they were shredded to pieces, and he could have gotten hurt if his fingers had grazed the scalp under her hair.

Marie leaned back on her seat and closed her eyes, small smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Her life had sucked up until now, but it felt like it was getting better. Hell, anything was better than to slave her ass off in that greasy joint Nate had the audacity to call BurgerHeaven.

Suddenly whine of the jet engines got louder, and the whole plane shuddered. Her eyes flew open and she looked around.

"Told you. No Top Gun," Logan spat, squeezing the armrests of his chair, his eyes closed and head tilted back. His face was pale, nearly ashen. Red haired woman he had called Jean earlier sat on the other side of the aisle. She turned to look at Logan as well.

"Scott's getting better. He hasn't wrecked landing gears lately," she said. Logan snorted.

"Doesn't mean jack shit Jeannie. That boy's going to get us all killed. Why can't he leave serious business like flying to somebody who actually can handle this heap of junk?"

"Oh, shush, Wolverine. You know Scott's more than capable pilot. You're just afraid of flying."

"Afraid of flying? When Scott's behind the wheel? Definitely…"

Marie had been so immersed to Logan's banter with Jean that she hadn't even noticed when Blackbird landed. Logan did notice. As soon as the hum of the engines stilled a bit he was off from his seat and walking towards large hatch that was opening to the rear end of the plane. For a moment she was scared. There was nothing stopping him from leaving. He could hop on his motorcycle and ride away. Jean noticed her nervousness and smiled.

"Don't worry. He's coming back," she assured.

Minutes ticked by. Rain was pouring outside, drowning out all other noises.

"He doesn't like flying. He's sitting outside, trying to come up good reasons to leave," Jean continued. Marie scrunched her forehead.

"How can you tell?"

"I'm a telepath. I can hear what other people think. I usually try not to listen, but with Wolverine… It's hard to keep his voice out from my head."

She started to get up from her seat, cussing when seatbelt tugged her back.

"Just sit back. We'll be leaving soon," Jean said smiling.

"But… You said he was trying to come up good reasons to leave…" Again Jean smiled.

"We have one big reason for him to come along, sitting right here in this plane. He'll come in as soon as he's finished his cigar…"

As if he was a mind reader himself, Logan trudged in, pushing his Motorcycle up the ramp with him and shaking off droplets of water that clung to his damp hair.

"Tell Summers to wait until I have this thing tied down before we leave," he grunted to Jean who rose from her seat and went to the cockpit. Marie let out the breath she had been holding and relaxed on her seat.

From where she sat she had a clear view to the back of the plane where Logan was working on fastening his motorcycle. He had discarded his jacket and the flannel shirt. White T-shirt he still had on was soaked through and plastered to his skin. Pang of longing and jealousy rippled through her.

She had never really thought about it before. Not when she lived in a town filled with hypocrite rednecks that preached on tolerance and on the other hand excluded everybody different from their ranks. Now, Jean's words about someone on the plane that was important to Logan, and the fact that she probably wouldn't ever know the feeling of being important to someone drew a deep frown on her face. Logan seemed to sense her staring, and turned to look at her.

"You alright, kid?" He asked. She nodded. Why wouldn't she be? Logan nodded back and finished his task, then walked to where she sat and slumped to the seat next to hers.

"Don't want to be anywhere near the load when Scott's flying. Got once nearly squashed by a freaking heavy crate when we hit some bad weather and he panicked…"

Maybe it was because he didn't want to end up hugging his motorcycle if they faced some turbulence. He hadn't sat next to Marie for any other reason. At least that's what he kept telling himself for the rest of the flight. And when she grabbed his gloved hand when Summers started the landing sequence, he didn't try to shake her off, but answered to her touch with a tight grasp of his own. And when she started to shiver from the cool air in the hangar he draped his jacket over her shoulders. It was wet, but it offered at least some protection.

It had been a long and eventful day. He tried to relax. Raided the fridge at the kitchen and grunted satisfied when raid resulted a case of Molson's. He was trudging towards the guest wing, and his room in there when an open doorway on his path tickled his curiosity. Marie's scent wafted from the darkened room. He flipped the light switch. She was sitting on the windowsill, wrapped to a brightly colored woolen shawl and stared out in the night.

"Turn off the light, I can't see them," she whispered. He did as she asked and stepped in to the room.

"See what?" He asked, walking to the window and peering out. Garden outside was silent and empty. What the hell there was to see?

"Stars. They're so beautiful, but it's hard to see them. New York is so close and lights ruin the view."

"Oh…"

He had never even thought about the stars. They were somewhere up there, small blinking spots in the distance. He craned his neck and tried to see what was so intriguing about them and failed miserably. They were small, blinking dots in the distance. Just like they had always been.

"Yeah… Well… I'll leave you to it, then…" He muttered and turned to leave.

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For bringing me here."

"You're… You're welcome."

She called him Logan. Sounded much nicer than the Wolverine. Wolverine marked him. Specified him as something else than he thought he was. An animal. A weapon. People used that name all the time, some with hateful tone. Some with fear coloring their voice. Some people called him Wolverine because it was the only name he had ever revealed to them. Even Jean, his Jeannie who fucking had to know how badly it grated his ears to hear that name from her lips used it. But not Marie. A chick he had known less than twenty-four hours was calling him by his real name.

"You told her to call you Logan, you pathetic prick…" He grunted to himself before pushing open the door to his room. Home, sweet home. Not really. But this small corner was probably the only place on the face of this earth he could call his own. Contract with Xavier several years ago had bought him ownership of this room. He walked in and locked the door behind him. It was highly unlikely that anybody wandered in. Most of the people knew full well that his room was out of limits.

He dragged a comfortable armchair next to the window and slouched on it, popping open a bottle of Molson's. Leaned his head back and took a sip from the beer. Stared at the flickering lights in the distance, trying to understand how some people could find them so fucking appealing. To him they looked just cold. Cold and empty.


	5. Chapter 5

Knock on the door interrupted his new hobby and he rose from the chair, groaning tiredly. He wasn't in the mood for company. Cranky and tired had just gotten a whole new meaning.

"Who is it?" He asked.

"It's me."

He hurried to the door after recognizing the voice and opened it. Blue-skinned man dressed to a light brown trench coat stood in the corridor. He moved aside to let him in. Man waked up to the window and sat on the chair, snagging a bottle from the case he had placed next to it.

"Heard you found the young fräulain, correct?" Kurt Wagner asked, taking a small sip from the beer. Logan closed the door, walked to the window and sat on the windowsill.

"Found her, lost her, found and lost her again, managed to track her down and we brought her here."

"There was some… Trouble?" Wagner asked. Logan nodded.

"Sabretooth was there. But we took care of him."

"Good. And fräulain D'Ancanto? How is she?"

"Just fine, I guess. Sick and little shaken up, but nothing serious."

"You didn't…"

"Come on, Kurt! I'm not a complete asshole!" Logan huffed.

"Besides, I prefer redheads…" He continued smirking. Wagner nodded.

"I heard there is a new lady at the Titty Twister. You might want to check her out," he said. Logan shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. I think I'll stay in for the night. Kind of tired…"

"And perhaps it is time for me to leave and let you get some rest," Wagner muttered, finishing his beer and disappearing, leaving only faint scent of sulphur floating in the air.

Wagner was a good man. No-nonsense kind of guy. At first, few years ago when Logan had first met him, his unwavering faith and devotion to The Man above had made him little suspicious towards blue-skinned teleporter. Logan himself wasn't in to religion of any kind, but Wagner had made it quickly quite clear that he was content in his faith, but not about to try to wrestle Logan down to that path with him. They had formed an easy camaraderie. Wagner wasn't much of a drinker, but had a beer every now and then, and he was a good listener. He was also a very intelligent conversationalist. He was probably one of the few people in this world Logan could call a friend without flinching too hard.

He put remaining bottles of the beer to a small fridge next to his bed. He was more tired than in need of the booze. He shrugged off his jeans and shirts. They reeked and cling to his skin like a wet towel. He felt sluggish and sticky. Long, hot shower first, then to bed.

Stars weren't as bright as she had gotten used to at home, but they were just as beautiful. She felt little dizzy from the medication Jean had given her to lower the fever, but it was nice dizziness. Warm, soft feeling and it made her rock slightly back and forth. She was quite sure that the pill Jean had given her was more than just something for the fever. At the plane she had been wound up and little nervous from everything that had happened during the day, but now she could remember and observe it all calmly.

She giggled a bit at the thought of what happened to her sneakers. She wished she could have seen it all happening instead of experiencing it. It must have been quite hilarious sight. Logan had practically blown her off from her shoes. How many girls could say that and really mean it?

Knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Quiet rap, just loud enough for her to hear.

"Door's open. Come in."

She had expected to see Logan. She wasn't sure why. Instead of Logan a blue-skinned man dressed to a long overcoat entered.

"Good evening, fräulain D'Ancanto," man greeted her.

"Uh… Good evening?" Marie stuttered an answer. Fräulain? Wasn't that German?

"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kurt Wagner," man said, bowing lightly at her direction.

"Yes?" What did he want from her?

"I just talked with Logan, and he told me you were sick. I hope it's nothing serious?" Wagner asked. She could see genuine worry on his face.

"Just a flu…" She started to explain when a sneeze made her nearly fall down from her perch at the window. Wagner stepped closer and offered his arm for her so she could find her balance again, then produced a handkerchief from his pocket.

She was quite taken aback from his gesture. People tended to keep their distance at all the times, some hating her because she was a mutant, and some because they were scared of her skin.

"Watch out my skin…" She whispered before blowing her nose. Wagner patted her shoulder and smiled.

"Young fräulain doesn't need to worry. Your skin doesn't work through clothes, correct?" He asked. Marie shook her head.

"No, it doesn't. But…"

"Then there is nothing to worry."

"Uh… I don't mean to be impolite, but it's kind of late… Was there something you needed from me?" Marie asked when Wagner just stood there, staring at her. Man smiled and shook his head.

"Just wanted to make sure that you were all right. Sleep well, Marie," he said, bowed again and then disappeared with most spectacular manner, dissolving to thin air, leaving faint scent of sulphur and small could of black soot floating to where he had stood.

He was about to fall asleep, when knock on the door roused him from the slumber.

"It's like a fucking central station… Doesn't anybody around here sleep anymore?" He muttered angrily and sat up, clearing his throat.

"Who the hell is it?" He shouted, hoping that the tone of his voice would scare off the disturbance.

"It's just me." Marie. He rose from the bed and pulled on his jeans before opening the door.

She took in his rumpled appearance. Jeans unbuttoned, bare chest and still damp, tousled mane of dark hair.

"Oh… I'm sorry if I woke you up…"

"What is it?" Logan asked. He had about had it with these people. Didn't they have anything better to do than to bother him?

"I… I just came to ask you… Who is Kurt Wagner?"

"Why? He came to see you?" Logan asked. Marie nodded.

"He's a friend of mine. And kind of a night owl. If you're feeling like staying awake late, go pester him. He lives at the attic. Stairs at the end of this corridor. Anything else on your mind?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any cigarettes?"

She wasn't a regular smoker. He would have smelled it on her before.

"I smoke when I'm nervous. I feel like I should be very nervous, but Jean gave me something and now I feel only weird…" She explained. They sat outside on the patio. He was puffing a cigar, and she was still toying with a pack of Marlboro Logan had confiscated from an underaged student ages ago.

"Why you should be nervous? You're safe in here," Logan grunted, lighting the cigarette she had taken. She took a long drag and held her breath before answering, clearly thinking.

"I don't know. Am I safe? Probably. But it doesn't change the fact that you guys practically kidnapped me."

"Hey! You already promised to come with me," Logan reminded her. She snorted and coughed a bit when smoke got in to her nose.

"Well, you didn't give much of a choice over it…"

"If you prefer being out there all alone, be my guest. I already got what I wanted. I'm not going to stop you," Logan spoke softly, his hooded gaze fixed to something in the dark garden in front of them.

"No… I think I'll stick around for a while. At least until I get over this fucking flu…" She coughed again and put out her cigarette.

"How about you?" She asked. Logan turned to look at her, his right eyebrow cocked questioningly.

"Are you going to stay?" She clarified her question. Logan shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know. Maybe for couple of days. Just in case Magneto and his friends come looking for you. Can't have them demolishing this place."

Or demolishing you, Logan added silently in his mind. What ever Magneto had reserved for her, it couldn't be nice. Judging from his personal experience with the old mutant, it would probably prove to be lethal for her. And she was just… Just a chick from a small backwater town. Strapped with a fucking lousy mutation.

"Ready to go back inside? Or do you need another dose of tar and nicotine?" He asked. She pocketed the pack she had been fumbling and shook her head.

"I guess I should go to sleep. It just feels so… Ah, forget it."

"No. Feels so… What?"

"It's stupid. You're going to laugh at me."

"Tell me. I could use a good laugh."

"I miss Frank."

"Frank?" Had he missed something? Was there a significant someone in the picture? Another mutie in need of rescuing?

"My teddy bear. I didn't have the time to grab my bag when we left…"

"Oh… I think Scott said something about it… I thought they brought your stuff to your room," Logan said. A teddy bear? Well. Who the hell was he to judge other people's sleeping habits?

"It's probably waiting in the Blackbird. Come on, let's go and get it."

"It's not like… I know it's childish. But it's… I got that bear from my dad and…" She stuttered blushing when they walked towards the hangar. He remembered now seeing it. Brown, little worse to wear, strapped tightly on top of her bag. One eye missing and a row of stitches adorning its stomach.

"Don't worry about it. If it helps you to sleep better…"

They found her bag, and the bear strapped to it sitting in front of the hangar. Somebody had forgotten it there. She pulled the bear free from the bindings and hugged it tightly against her. Logan took the bag.

"Thanks… For… For bringing me here. And this all…" She stuttered when they stopped in front of her room. Logan found it impossible not to smile and ruffle her hair before leaving her to her own devices.

Finally back in his room he discarded his jeans and crawled between the cool sheets.

"Next one who comes knocking down on my door will end up kebab," he decided glancing the clock on his bedside table. Three. Fucking three in the morning.

"Note to self. Go and get a decent pair of earplugs tomorrow."

He closed his eyes. Opened them when the sound of a running shower echoed from the bathroom.

"Whatthefuck…" He bolted from his bed and pushed the door open. Remembered little too late that he shared that bathroom with the person living next door. Marie squeaked and yanked the shower curtain shut. For a moment he just stood at the doorstep, image of her very naked, glistening wet body burnt to his retinas.

"Shit… Sorry, kid. Next time lock the door, okay?" He stuttered before closing the door and leaning against it tiredly. He didn't need this. Last thing he needed right now was yet another participant to his nightly fantasies. Maybe he should visit at the Titty Twister after all. But not tonight. Now he was going to get some sleep even if he had to kill somebody to reach his goal. He dove back under the covers and slammed a pillow over his head. It worked surprisingly well. He didn't hear bathroom door opening. He didn't smell her scent. He didn't realize that he wasn't alone anymore before mattress dipped under her weight.

"Um… I can't sleep."

"Really? And what the fuck do you want me to do about it?" He growled, throwing away the pillow and fixing the iciest glare he could muster to Marie who was sitting at the edge of his bed, dressed to a modest nightgown and a green bathrobe.

"You sure are on a grumpy mood. Remember, it was your idea to bring me here."

"It sure as hell wasn't my idea. Why the hell you don't go pester somebody else?"

"Duh! I don't know anybody else around here except you!"

"Well, go make some new friends, then. Shoo!"

"You're weird. I can't walk around in the middle of the night and waking people up."

"You don't seem to have any problems keeping me wide awake…"

"That's my point! You're already awake. I don't have to wake you up, and you can keep me company! Do you want some coffee? I think I saw a coffee maker in the kitchen when we walked past the doorway…"

"What the hell did Jeannie give to you?"

"I don't know. Do you want some coffee? I could go and make some…"

"Please. Go. Have some coffee. Leave me alone. I want to sleep."

"I can't walk around all by myself. I don't even know where to find coffee beans."

"Kid?"

"Yes?"

"Shut the fuck up."

She yelped surprised when Logan's hand snaked from under cover and wrapped around her waist. He pulled her on the bed, spooning her from behind and locked his arm tightly around her.

"Keep your mouth shut and sleep, and I don't have to gag you. Agreed?"

"Agreed," she squeaked hastily.

Minutes ticked by. Arm around her waist relaxed slightly. Logan's breathing evened out. He was sleeping. She lay there next to him, enjoying the soothing warm and solid feel of another person against her. Not the same as Frank, but much better.


	6. Chapter 6

He woke up. Clock on the bedside table told him it was half past noon. Girl on his arms was burning hot and sweaty. At some point during the night he had managed to wrap all his covers around her. She was sleeping, but it didn't look all that comfortable or restful. He tried to peel off the quilt from around her. She muttered something in her sleep and dragged it back, curling even tighter under it.

"Marie? Kid? Let go. It's not good for you," he whispered.

"But mom… It's so cold out there…"

"Mom? Come on… Just let go of it before you melt or something," he grunted pulling the blanket off from her and tossing it to the floor. She whined and curled against him, seeking warmth, her sweaty forehead pressing against his bare chest.

"Oh, shit!"

He didn't have the time to move before the pull started. Sickening feeling of everything flowing out of him. Blood, marrow, life, strength, everything being torn off through his ribcage, and he was unable to move, unable to breathe or scream. And like a leech she was pressing even closer to him, burrowing against him and nestling her whole face against the bare skin above his heart. Heart that had kept beating surprisingly steadily through every ordeal before and now started skipping beats and slowing down.

He was going to die. This fucking slip of a girl was going to be the death of him. He tried to struggle, to stop the flow, move away from her, but he could only stare at her. His vision started to blur. Inky blackness creeping from the edges, covering everything but her, nestled against him, peaceful, contended smile on her face. Then, suddenly her eyes fluttered open. For a moment she just laid there, confused expression on her face.

"Oh, my God!" She was touching him. She could feel him inside of her, struggling and spewing curses, kicking and scratching, trying to break free. She scrambled off from the bed, falling to the floor on her back, gagging and gasping for air. It was too much. Too much. She had been so comfortable, held on too long, fooled by her dream and his warmth.

"Let go! Let go of me! Let go! Don't touch! Get the hell away from me!" She wasn't sure of who was shouting. Was it he? Or he inside of her? Or was it her? Or was anybody or was she just imagining those desperate pleas that slowly started to turn from begging to threats against her life and soul if she didn't let go immediately. Something cold and sharp sliced through her skin and muscle, parting them and crushing the bone underneath. She was tearing apart, piece by piece.

"I'll go down, you go down…" He spat bitterly. He wasn't going to let some fucking bitch get the better of him. He still couldn't move, but every passing moment he spent wallowing in his anger and rage seemed to help some. She was screaming somewhere on the floor. Screams were getting weaker. Her hold from him was getting weaker. The pull was slowing down, and his heart was quickening. He could breathe again. He released his claws and they came out in a hot gush of eager blood, rushing forward and locking on to their places. Her screaming intensified, and he could hear his own voice joining to the choir. His hands hurt. He rolled on his stomach and crawled, pulling himself forward with his elbows, keeping his bleeding hands up in the air, claws still out.

Heavy weight landed on top of her. Logan. Bleeding. Panting and grimacing.

"Stop it before I fucking tear your guts out…" Stop what? She wasn't doing anything but hurting. He was raging inside of her, tearing and maiming, mutilating her mind piece by piece.

"Don't hurt me… Please, don't hurt me anymore…"

"I'll stop as soon as you let go," Logan whispered through gritted teeth, his clawed hands descending to her throat and ribcage.

"I'm… I'm not doing anything… Don't hurt me anymore…"

Her pleading eyes made him hesitate for a moment. She wasn't touching him skin on skin anymore. As soon as doubt set in to him, her cries and pain inside of him lessened. Pull and resulting sickening feeling of tearing and falling apart became less intense. As soon as his rage picked up and thoughts of finishing her off floated to the front of his mind she started to scream and cry in earnest and pain engulfed him again.

He used the remaining shreds of strength and willpower to push away from her and crawled to the opposite corner of the room, closing his eyes and trying to put reigns over his rage. Moments ticked by. Turmoil in his mind and body started to settle down. Girl, Marie, laid on the floor, whimpering and shivering. He couldn't smell the stench of sickness in her anymore. His mutation had wiped off the flu. And judging from the evidence it wasn't the only thing that had happened. He could see her face, pale and ashen, lips moving but no words were coming out from her. Yet he could hear her inside of his head as clearly as if she was speaking to him. Continuous litany of pleas of not to hurt her, she was sorry, she hadn't done it on purpose, she wouldn't do it again, he didn't have to hurt her anymore. He tried to stop the whispers, but it was impossible. That small persistent voice made him feel ashamed of what had happened. Of what he had nearly done. She hadn't intended to hurt him, yet he had lashed out on her with everything he got. No bleeding wounds were visible, but somehow he could feel the gaping tears inside of her, and mirror image of those inside of him.

He was sorry and ashamed. Those feelings covered the earlier blind rage of his in her mind like a quilt. Invisible blades that had just seconds ago shredded her to ribbons melted away, retreated from her ravaged being. Voice that had been earlier shouting and cursing her spoke now hesitantly. There were no actual words, just a strong feeling of confusion, hurt and shame. She opened her eyes. She could see him, slumped against the wall, hands limp on his sides. Impossible looking metal blades, same blades that had torn in to her earlier protruding from his knuckles, blood pooling slowly around his palms on the floor. As she watched they retracted slowly, sliding inside of his hands. Wounds they left started to close. She licked her dry lips.

"I'm sorry…" She whispered.

"I'm sorry, too… Are you… Are you alright?" Logan asked. Whispers in her head had been inquiring the same thing from the moment he had crawled away from her.

"Are you alright?" She asked realizing that the claws she had seen had been real, not her imagination. They had cut through his hands.

"I will be… What the hell happened?" Logan asked, clenching his fists and shaking his head.

"I think… I think I held on too long… Something like this happened once before. But he… He was an ordinary human. He didn't have your mutation. He died…"

"I can hear you. Inside my head. Stop being so fucking sorry and get out!" Logan barked. She tried to get up but her body refused to cooperate.

"I can't… I'm too tired…"

"From my head! Stop talking! Shit, I can't hear my own thoughts!"

"I'm in your… Head?"

It didn't work that way. She got them in her head. They got to enjoy nice and comfortable coma for few weeks if they were lucky.

"You're in my head and you're so goddamned sorry and I can't take it anymore! Stop!" She flinched and grasped her temple. Cold metal flashed briefly through her mind. A warning. She could feel him struggling, trying to push her out from where she did not belong. She didn't know how to retreat and she started to slip. She would fall soon if he didn't stop. Fall to deep and dark pit.

"Stop! Stop! I'm trying!" She gasped. Pressure diminished.

"I'm trying! But I don't know how! This… I don't know what happened!" His claws flashed out again, re-opening the wounds from his hands. She could feel those same claws inside of her, poised above her, threatening to sink in.

"You're inside of me as well! Put them away, it hurts!"

He retracted his claws as soon as he felt their coldness scraping inside of his own skull. Sickening screech of metal on bone.

"I think we'd better go to see Xavier. This can't be good…" He muttered, scrambling up to his feet. World tilted and swayed as if he was drunk and he had to brace his hands against the wall to stop himself falling. Marie wasn't faring any better. If possible, she was even more shaken than him. And still apologizing inside of his head, over and over again. His knuckles were itching. He hated when people started apologizing. What was done was done.

"Would you shut up already?" He huffed walking to her and picking her up.

"I don't know how to stop it," she whispered.

"Think of something else than what just happened."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Something. Anything. You're making me feel like I'm a fucking asshole and I don't like it!"

He really felt bad about what had happened. He inside of her head was apologizing as well. Well, not in words. But when she focused and managed to pin him down, he was sitting in a dark corner, hands folded to his lap, insecure and scared expression on his face.


	7. Chapter 7

"Lucky me…" Logan spat and took a long drag from his cigar. Garden around him was unusually silent and empty for this time of the day. Word had traveled fast. Nobody wanted to be around sulking Wolverine.

Xavier had been in his office. He had taken one good look at them both, Logan had felt brief brush of his telepathic fingers in his head, and then baldy had flashed them a wide smile, congratulating them.

"Regardless of events that lead to this, you two should consider yourselves lucky. Aftereffects should wear off in a day or two. I'd recommend plenty of rest. Now, if you excuse me, I'm already late for my physics class."

Bonded. He knew about the bond between Scott and Jean. He had always thought it more than a tad creepy, two minds linked together. From what he had heard it was extremely rare. Usually only couples very close to each other formed a bond of that sort, let their minds merge together to allow communication through telepathy. And now he had gotten a bond of his own, with a chick he knew practically nothing about. Lucky? Yeah. Somewhere faith was laughing its ass off with the destiny over their practical joke.

Xavier had given them advises of how the bond worked, and how it was for the time being possible to turn the connection on and off, like a radio. He was quite sure that Marie's quicksilver mind would drive him insane long before that. For the past hours he had tried his best to not think about anything, trying to guard his privacy. He could feel she really tried to do the same, but it seemed to be impossible. Flow of random thoughts and emotions was nearly suffocating him.

A bond. It sounded like something out of a fairytale. Two minds linked together for eternity. She wasn't sure of what to think about it. Logan was less than pleased. He was angry. He felt betrayed. Cornered. She tried her best not to invade his mind and concentrated to her inner self, trying to sort out everything that had flown from him to her when they had touched, but every once in a while she found herself rummaging through Logan's head. On those occasions his anxiety rose tenfold. Earlier she hadn't known how to retreat, but now she had gotten crash course on escaping from angered Logan in their heads.

She was in her room, sitting on the windowsill and staring down in to the garden where Logan sat, smoking and taking gulps from a bottle of whiskey he had dug up from somewhere. She wished she could talk with him about what had happened, but every time she tried, verbally or through their bond, he drove her off. He seemed to understand that she hadn't done this on purpose, but at the same time he was guarding himself to the point of paranoia.

"It isn't like I'm even that interested about him…" She muttered angrily. When she had accidentally stumbled in his mind for the fifth time that day, he had thrown a barrage of less pleasant memories to her direction. Now she had first hand experience of what it felt to be shot or gutted alive.

"Is this fair, Wolverine?" Jean asked, sitting next to him and taking the bottle from his hand. He snorted, snatched the bottle back and took a long gulp from it, enjoying the burning sensation when the whiskey hit the back of his throat.

"Fair? No. Not even on the same planet as fair, that's for sure," he grunted. Jean took the bottle again and turned it upside down, pouring the remaining liquid to the flowerbed next to them.

"She screwed me over."

"How can you say that? You're not the only one in this!"

"Don't you think I fucking know that? She's in my fucking head! Half of the time I don't even know which of us is which!" Logan hissed, taking the bottle from her and licking the last droplets of the booze from the brim of it. He'd have to go to town to get some more. And soon.

"Do you really think she likes to be in your head? Or likes the fact that you're in her head as well?" Jean asked. Logan narrowed his eyes.

"She doesn't like it. I don't like it. And what the good professor told us, this shit can't be undone."

"What are you going to do now?" Jean asked. He could tell from the look on her face and her posture, that she expected something constructive. She expected him to go to Marie and start developing the bond. Like it was something precious they should nurture and treasure.

"I'm heading out."

"Out? Wolverine…"

"Unless you have bottomless bottle and you're planning to play topless bartender, stay the fuck out of my business…"

She could feel it. Drunken stupor swirling in his head. Taste the beer and whiskey, almost as if it was she drinking instead of him. She could smell the scent of cigars and their perfume. Lacquered nails scraping her bicep and shoulders lightly, teasingly. Soft laughter echoing. More beer. Breasts pressing against her back. Hand squeezing her buttocks. Brief flash of anger before turning around. Red. Red hair. Anger melting slowly. Scent of her arousal rising when she smiled. Hours bleeding together to a jumbled swirl of booze and naked, slick and sweaty bodies.

Sun was rising when he drove his motorcycle through the gates of Xavier's School Of Gifted Youngsters. Some students were already up and going around on their business. He didn't feel like seeing anybody. He parked his motorcycle behind the garage and slipped in to the main building through the kitchen door. He was tired to the bone, still slightly buzzed from the booze he had drink, but all in all he felt fine. After the first five whiskeys he had chased down with the beer he hadn't been able to hear Marie anymore. And when the redhead had joined to his company, night had turned from tolerable to pleasant.

He raided the fridge and made himself a roast beef sandwich. Took it with him and made his way to the guest wing at the second floor. Closer he got to the door of her room the more nervous he felt. Like every inch of his skin was covered with a swarm of ants. His knuckles were itching and he had to make a conscious effort to keep the claws in when he walked past Marie's door.

He was in the shower when he started to hear the whispers again. Luminescent tendrils of her dream creeping in and twining around his core. He could see them, eerily glowing tentacles burrowing to every nook and cranny, leaving nothing unexplored. He snarled, baring his teeth and giving in to his temptation to use the claws. One brief flash of gleaming adamantium, dizzying dual feeling of them grazing her and him, and tendrils retreated. He could hear a sudden gasp and thud from the other side of the door leading to her room.

"You awake, kid?" He asked.

"I am now," he could hear her answer, voice still scratchy and hoarse from sleep.

"Good. Stay the fuck out of my head. Next time I'm not going to settle for a warning…"

To his complete surprise door flew open. Marie stood in the doorway, eyes blazing from the anger. Her presence in his head got suddenly louder. No words or actual sound, but sudden shock of something reminding him of the white noise. Like somebody had just turned the TV on somewhere near him.

"Stay the fuck out of your head? That's rich! Coming from a person who spent last night fighting, fucking and drinking inside of my fucking head!"

"Consider it payback from yesterday!"

"Payback?"

"I don't like when people get on my skin. You weren't just on my skin, you went fucking beneath it! I don't want you there!" Logan growled, shutting off the shower and reaching for the towel.

Apparently she had already been in the same bed with him and Janine, the redhead from the bar. He didn't need the towel for the sake of modesty. He dried his hair and walked to his room. He could hear Marie following as far as to the doorstep of the bathroom.

"I kind of noticed that you don't like it. Hell, I don't like it either. But pull that fucking thick head of yours out of your ass! You're not alone in this! You're in my head as well, and I don't want you in there! I don't need to know how does it feel to fuck with women! I don't need to know how good it feels to beat the crap out of some idiotic schmuck! And I don't fucking need a hangover from the booze I haven't even drank!"

"Want some cheese with that whine?" Logan quipped, hunting through his closet until he found a comfortable pair of sweatpants. Nudity didn't usually bother him, but this conversation he wasn't going to have naked.

He was pacing restlessly in her head. He was pacing restlessly in front of her, hands clenched to tight fists on his sides. She could feel the claws, resting in their sheaths, ready to tear out at any given moment. One wrong word, one wrong move and they would both be in the world of hurt again. But she couldn't back out. Not now. She had to make him understand.

"Did you even listen when professor Xavier explained this to us?" She asked, schooling the tone of her voice, turning it rather questioning than accusing.

"Yes. Every fucking word. Understood crystal clear that there's no way out of this."

"Then you must have heard the part where he told that this could be controlled. That if we practice, we can stay out of each others head if we want, or need to?" She asked.

"Practice? Booze seemed to work for me just fine. Couldn't hear a peep from you last night after I got drunk enough…" Logan spat. But he had stopped pacing. He inside of her head had stopped pacing as well.

"I don't have your mutation. I can't keep getting drunk just to drown your voice in my head. And I sure as hell don't want to know every little detail of your sordid adventures with women and booze. Do me a favor. Get your act together. Sleep off last night. Start working with me on this."


	8. Chapter 8

He did sleep as she had suggested. Slept through the whole day, then stayed in his bed until he could be sure that Marie had already gone to sleep. She was there with him, in his head, but kept quiet, eyes screwed tightly shut and hands slanted over her ears. Had been that way for the whole day ever since his dreams took an interesting turn and brought the events of the previous night in to his mind.

"Good. Stay that way for a while…" He grunted, sitting up and rubbing his face. He'd need to shave. But not right now. Right now he needed to get his stuff together and his ass as far from Xavier's as possible, as soon as possible. He'd be damned if he'd start to 'work' with Marie over something he could easily correct with decent amount of booze. And if she already could keep it to herself and not to look at his thoughts, what there really was to work for anymore?

He slid on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Shrugged on a flannel shirt as well. He didn't really have that many belongings, just some clothes and his cigars, and his shaving kit. He threw them to his knapsack that had waited him in the closet. Most faithful companion aside his motorcycle during all these years he already had spent roaming around the country.

Girl was still sleeping; he could hear her soft, even breathing from behind the wall. And the girl in his head was still frozen rigid to the 'hear-no-evil-see-no-evil' –act. Everything was exactly as it should be. He congratulated himself for the job well done, sling the knapsack over his shoulder and closed the door to his room behind him, locking it before trudging down the corridor.

At the end of the corridor he felt an alarming ripple going through her. He froze, his hand on the banister of the stairs and waited, holding his breath. When nothing else happened he took the stairs three at time, hurrying downstairs and to the kitchen in record time before Jean that had been watching some documentary in the rec room had the time to stop him.

He sprinted through the back garden to the garage where his motorcycle stood. Tank full, ready to go. He stuffed his knapsack to the left saddlebag. Sat on the saddle. And bolted off when front door of the garage slid open, revealing the driveway and Marie standing on the other side, backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Where are we going?" She asked walking to him and opening the right saddlebag, stuffing her belongings there. He could only stare at her, speechless, mouth gaping open. Last time he had checked she had been sound asleep in her own room.

"I'm not stupid, you know. I knew you what you were planning. I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are!" He growled, climbing on the saddle. She slid behind him and wrapped her hands around his waist.

"I'm coming with you, and I'm going to tag along as long as it takes to get things sorted out between us."

"You did pretty good job earlier today. Looked like you already know how to keep away from my thoughts…"

"I don't know what I did, or how I did it, and on top of it I have the mother of all headaches pounding from trying not to disturb you any more than it's absolutely necessary. Until I we both learn how to shield our thoughts, I'm staying with you."

"Keep your mouth shut, do as I say, and stay the fuck out of my way, and we have a deal," Logan finally grunted reluctantly. It could be at least interesting to travel with somebody. And he actually wasn't that keen of the prospect of staying drunk and fuzzy 24-7. There were limits of what his body could take the abuse, and he wasn't expecting his next hangover with fondness. He adjusted her hold from around him, moved her hands from below his beltline above it.

"No helmet?" Marie asked. He turned so he could see her from the corner of his eye.

"What did I just tell you?"

"I just asked a question…"

"No talking unless I say you can talk. No moving unless I say you can move. And that same applies to bitching about my habits. Are you sure you want to come?" He asked. He could feel her moving slightly against his back, but she didn't answer.

"I said 'are you sure you want to come'?" He renewed his question.

"Is this one of those times I can talk?" Marie asked.

"Oh, for fuck's… I'm going to regret doing this…" He muttered, gunning the engine for the good measure before driving out to the silent night.

He obviously wasn't used to drive around with somebody plastered against his back. He drove too fast for her tastes. It was as if he was trying to punish his motorcycle for something it had done. She had been on the motorcycle once before in her lifetime. It had been the time Logan had snatched her from the side of the road, and then she had been too distracted and scared to really pay attention to the whole concept of speed and keeping balance. She tried to relax and mimic Logan's moves, lean right when he leaned right, stay up when he stayed up and so on. She tried. But it wasn't easy. Half of the time she was too scared that she would fall off, and rest of the time she was too tired and rigid from concentrating so hard not to get inside of his mind.

Suddenly Logan slowed down, and stopped to the side of the road. For a moment they just sat there, then he huffed and lowered his head.

"Get in."

"What?"

"It feels like I have a pile of bricks strapped to my back. If we keep going like this, we're going to fall. I'm not in the mood of scooping your brain from the pavement. There has got to be something we can use in this fucking bond." He spat the word 'bond' out like it was poison.

"Are you… I'm… I try not to get too loud…" She whispered and relaxed. Stepped forth. Logan wasn't exactly thrilled of having her there, but he was more cooperative than he had been earlier. She could feel him hovering close her. Hesitant. Nervous.

"Shit. Well, here goes nothing…" She could hear him muttering. His mind wrapped around hers like a blanket, cocooning her, and suddenly she could see, hear and smell, feel everything much clearer than before.

Scent of grass, tar and moisture in the air, traces of exhausts, small crickets chirping, plants and trees achieving almost scary new aspect of clarity in her eyes. She gasped from the surprise and Logan pulled back.

"That bad?" He asked. She shook her head to clear off the confusion.

"Is that how you see and feel? All the time?" She asked. Logan turned on the saddle to look at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Everything was so strong and clear. I could see the fucking beetles down in the grass!"

"I don't know. I guess. Can you handle it?" He asked. She shook her head again and blinked couple of times. Suddenly she felt like she was in serious need of glasses. And there was nothing wrong with her eyesight. Not in reality.

"Can you handle it?" Logan asked again.

"Yes."

He enveloped her again. It didn't feel as bad as he had expected. Having her inside of his head was a distraction, but this way he could at least control some of it. She was more of a passenger than a nosy brat sneaking around. He didn't know how much she could actually see or feel, but he tried to clamp down his worst instinctual paranoia's and create her a separate space. It seemed to work. She sat with him snuggly, like the last piece of a puzzle.

"Do as I do. We'll take things slowly at first," he promised before turning the engine back on and returning to the road.

Instead of flying through the night like the proverbial bat from the hell he kept his promise and kept the speed even below speed limits for the better part of the next hour, letting her to adjust to his borrowed senses, and to get familiar with his way of handling the motorcycle and balance with it. Her curiosity and nervous giddiness were contagious. Before he even realized it, he was driving through the night at peaceful pace, idiotic grin on his face, eyes scanning for everything new and exiting around him. He shook his head.

"Stop being so fucking positive about this all," he grunted. She couldn't hear him through the noise of the engine and the wind, but he trusted that his thoughts conveyed the message to her.

"I can't help it! Not all of us have super senses all the time! I might as well get the most out of this while I still can!" She shouted. He could feel the warm joy from her seeping through in to him. In a sense she was fucking with his mind. Flooding him with sensations and images that filtered through her mind first. He couldn't help wondering how she could be so goddamned positive about everything when all she had gotten from life was a crappy mutation, shitty job, and now on top of everything she had gotten strapped for good with him.

"You think too much!"

"Huh?"

"You think entirely too much! Just feel! It's a wonderful night!"


	9. Chapter 9

They had been driving for few hours when he started to feel unfamiliar tiredness creeping up on him. Strange, aching feeling in his thighs, tension in his shoulders and neck. His hands felt cold. And something, faint trace of headache that reminded him of the hangover hovering between his temples. It took him a while to realize that what he was experiencing had very little to do with him, but everything to do with his passenger.

"You alright there, kid?" He asked. He could feel her complete exhaustion through the bond.

"Fine! But I could use a short break!" Short break? If he felt like shit, she must have been ready to keel over by now.

"There's a small diner not too far ahead. Think you can keep it up until we get there?"

"Sure!"

She was keeping up a brave façade, but he could tell she could use much more than a short break in a greasy roadside diner. He had slept the previous day. She had been up and running, doing what ever it was the she did during days. It was a small miracle that she hadn't fallen asleep on him already.

"Get out."

"Huh?" Confusion flooded through the link.

"Get out of my head. I don't want to fall asleep while I'm driving."

It was a struggle. She had learned on elementary level how to retreat. All he knew was to how to expel her forcibly. And he felt strangely reluctant to let her go. As soon as he had relaxed some, her presence had actually felt good. It probably had more to do with her fondness to his senses and giddy excitement she had poured in him than anything else, but regardless he felt cold and empty when she finally managed to slip behind rickety barricade he had formed to keep her out.

"We could stop for the night. There's a motel across the street," he suggested when they had parked the motorcycle in front of the diner. She wobbled down from the saddle and straightened her back.

"No, I'm good to go as soon as I get something to eat and big cup of coffee…"

"Don't fucking lie to me. You'd be in a pile on the ground if I wasn't holding your arm," Logan grunted. He had offered her support, out of chivalry or for what reason, she didn't know or care. Her thighs were singing hallelujah from sitting so long astride, and her head was slowly joining to the choir.

"Well, maybe it would be a good idea to sleep for a while…" She muttered when she tried to take a step and nearly tripped over. Logan huffed and scooped her on his arms.

"Don't get used to this…"

Don't get used to this. Why the hell he wanted to get used to this? Having her with him? Scrawny, boobless chick with plain brown hair. He could have understood himself better if it had been Jean he was holding. Now there was a Woman with a capital W. Lips that just begged to be wrapped around his cock, full breasts he could spent hours licking and nibbling, long slender legs that would undoubtedly feel heavenly wrapped around his waist or up on his shoulders…

"Uhh… Could you stop doing that?" Marie muttered blushing.

"Doing what?" He barked entering the diner.

"I really don't need that explicit material of Jean floating in my head. Got all I can handle with Janine and you already."

"Shit. I thought you could shield yourself already."

"It's harder when there's strong emotions… Just try not to think about her right now, okay?"

"Well, what am I allowed to think?" He snorted.

"Keep things above the waistline and everything should be okay."

"Fine. What are you having?" He asked, placing her down to a booth next to a large window. Her eyes widened.

"Oh, I forgot my purse to my backpack! I'll just go and get it…" She started to scoot on her feet. Logan pushed her back to the booth.

"Forget it. I'm buying."

She ordered some pancakes and large cup of coffee with cinnamon. He had to resist the urge to ask the waitress flavor his coffee as well. He drank it black. And if some part of him was nagging and growling for the lack of cinnamon, let it. He wasn't going to turn to her replica. He really wasn't. Just because he ordered pancakes instead of his usual burger didn't mean a thing. Thank God he wasn't sitting cross-legged like her because he felt the need to stretch his inner thighs.

"So. What's the plan?" She asked, sipping the coffee. His mouth was watering from the scent of cinnamon.

"Plan?" He asked.

"Yeah. Where are we going? Because somehow I got this feeling that you don't really have a plan."

"Original was to get as far away from you as possible. Since you blew that straight to hell… You wouldn't happen to have any ideas of what we could do next?" He asked. Coffee really tasted like crap without cinnamon. He pushed the half drank cup away from him.

"I just came for the ride. To make sure that I don't have to deal with what I went through last night again."

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that. I guess I wasn't really thinking… But don't expect me to turn in to a monk all of a sudden," he added quickly after his apology. He wasn't going to go celibate just because she had some troubles handling anything remotely sexual.

"I'm not some frigid virgin, if that's what you were thinking about. Well, technically I'm still a virgin, but… Oh, fuck… How do I explain it…" She muttered, eyes cast to the window, fingers rapping nervously against the table. He waited in silence. She was embarrassed. He could feel it rising over his cheeks as well.

"I guess I just get jealous. Jealous of what you can have. What everybody else can have. Most people take the ability to touch granted. I can't touch another person without killing him or her in the process."

He hadn't even thought about it that way. Well, he hadn't even thought about her, period. Now he cleared his throat and leaned his elbows to the table, lowering his jaw to rest on his knuckles, amused smirk tugging the corners of his mouth.

"You do realize there's several ways around your skin if you want to fuck with somebody?" He asked. She snorted.

"Of course! But that's not the point!"

"Not the point? Hell, piece of rubber and thin sheet and you're good to go!"

"Duh! I know that I can have sex if I want to! This wasn't about sex! I was talking about touching! For most people sex equals nudity. That feel of warm skin against warm skin. Sweat and… Uh… Where was I?"

"You were about to start auditioning for some soft core porn vid. Keep talking like that and you're going to give me a stiffy."

"Logan!"

"What? I wasn't the one who started this conversation!"

"My point was that I can't touch anybody skin on skin, and sometimes I get jealous over it," she finally managed to find the core of her explanation.

"Well… Life sucks anyway. It's not all that peachy even if you can get your paws on anybody and anywhere you like. Ready to go?"

They drove the motorcycle to the motel. Logan booked two rooms, and again insisted on paying them both.

"From what I heard from one of the waitresses at the BurgerHell Nate wasn't the most generous employer. If you have some money left, use it on something you really need," he said.

"Yeah. Like for a pack of condoms and a sheet? Who knows, if I wave them around eagerly enough, maybe I get lucky…" She snorted tiredly.

"Who knows…" Logan smirked, winked at her and went to his room. She sighed and tried to fit the key to the lock of her room, when Logan's door suddenly opened.

"Don't forget to stretch your legs. You're going to be sore in the morning as it is, but if you don't stretch, you'll be crawling on your hands and knees."

"Thanks for the heads up," she muttered, finally managing to persuade the rickety lock to cooperate and pushed the door open.

"Yeah. Sleep well, Marie."

"You too, Logan."

She was little worried. This would be the first time they were both asleep after the bonding. Would they be able to stay apart from each other? For some reason every time her mind wandered, it tended to wander straight to Logan, and from what she had noticed; it was the same with him. On few occasions she had felt him very close, then he had suddenly retreated as if he had gotten burnt. Privacy was as important to her as it was for anybody else, but for Logan it seemed to be everything. What would happen, what he would do if she accidentally ended up too far in his mind?

"Oh, fuck it… I'll deal with it when it happens…" she murmured. She was too tired to think. Like a machine, slowly and jerkily, she managed to take off her clothes and put on her nightgown. She tried to stretch her legs as thoroughly as possible, then crawled in to the bed. She was fast asleep before her head hit the pillow.

Dream started nicely enough. Redhead was writhing and squealing on top of him. He was buried to the hilt to her throbbing core, ready to explode at any given moment. She was hot and slick and her scent was driving him mad. He was kneading her breasts, feeling her nipples, hard and pebbled against his palms. He was going to come soon. He could feel it coiling inside of him… Then it all fell apart. There was no redhead. There were no breasts. Only sweat there was came from him. Only slickness he could find came from his blood. And he alone was writhing and squealing, screaming his lungs out when scalpels parted his skin and flesh and needles drilled their way in to his bones. He was screaming, but nobody listened. Nobody but her. She was standing there, blank mask of horror on her face, watching while he got torn open and gutted.

"Out… Get the fuck out of here…" Logan rasped, blood pouring from the corners of his mouth. He was struggling against metal collar and manacles that kept him tied to a table. His movements were jerky and weak. Somebody had separated his muscles from his bones.

"You don't… Need this… Not for your eyes… Get the fuck out!" She couldn't make herself obey. New cuts appeared on him, flesh parting and revealing the bone underneath. He was screaming and writhing, trying to make her leave.

"Shit…" He was ranting, cursing, and threatening somebody she couldn't see.

"Don't you fucking dare to touch her! She wasn't there! She wasn't there! Keep your hands off from her! I'll fucking gut you as soon as I get up… Oh, fuck… Marie, get away from here! Now!" Something materialized in front of her. A man wearing surgical scrubs and a mask over his mouth and nose. Scalpel in his hand gleamed wetly, caked with clotted blood. Front of his scrubs was dark red from where he had wiped his hands.

"Don't you touch her!" Apparition raised his hand. Suddenly she felt a strong push. She lost her balance, and fell…

Jarring thud woke her up. She had fallen from the bed.

"Oh, God… I knew I shouldn't have drank that coffee…" She sat up rubbing her face. Apparently she had been more worried and nervous than she had thought. She hadn't had nightmares in ages. And come to think of it, her average nightmare rarely came equipped with so vivid images and feelings. Logan. She had been in his head. In his dream. She had seen what he was dreaming even now.

"I'd take few wet dreams over that shit every night…" She whispered, pulling on her bathrobe. Maybe she should go and check if he was okay.


	10. Chapter 10

She didn't know what worried her the most; the fact that she couldn't feel Logan through the bond at all, or the bloodcurdling scream that echoed from his room.

Door was locked, but the motel wasn't exactly five star material. She got it open with the key to her room. In the dim light seeping through the curtains she could see Logan, still sound asleep on the bed. Had it been a false alarm after all? Her own imagination playing tricks with her? She stepped closer. Now she could see thin sheen of seat glistening on his skin. He looked like he was sleeping, but he was very tense. His breathing came erratic small gasps through clenched teeth.

"Logan?" She whispered his name. He twitched a little, turned his head towards her voice.

"Logan?" She called him again. His eyes opened slowly. For a moment it looked like he didn't know where he was.

"Logan?" She asked once more. He took a deep breath and sat up, rubbing his face tiredly.

"What the fuck were you doing in there?" He asked with hoarse voice.

"I… I don't know. Are you alright?" She asked.

"No…" Logan grunted, pulling his knees against his chest and wrapping his hands around them. From this angle she could see he preferred sleeping naked.

"Are you?" Logan asked.

"I'm fine. It was your dream?" She more stated the fact than asked. Logan nodded. She sat beside him on the bed. He was trembling.

"Was it only a dream?" She asked. She had never seen anybody react so strongly to a simple nightmare. Logan shook his head and swallowed.

"A memory…"

"It was something that has happened?" She asked. She wasn't sure if he wanted to talk, but she couldn't very well just leave him now.

"Yes…" He was staring off to distance, clutching his knees like he was afraid they were going to run off and abandon him if he let go.

"Come on… You look like you could use a hug," she whispered, sliding behind his back and wrapping her limbs around him, carefully avoiding touching him with bare skin of her palms.

They sat like that for several moments. She wasn't sure which one of them had started it, but they were rocking slightly back and forth. Logan grasped her hands through the sheet that had fallen to his lap and pulled them tighter around him. He wasn't talking, just stared at her behind him via mirror on the opposite wall. That blank, numb stare was slightly unnerving. She tried the bond again. And again impenetrable wall stopped her. Logan narrowed his eyes.

"Don't… It's… It's not safe yet."

"Okay. I won't do it again. Should… Should I leave?" She asked. Logan's eyes widened a bit. He started to turn, then changed his mind and leaned his neck on her shoulder. Move brought his face right beside hers.

"Don't go."

He closed his eyes and let his head rest on her shoulder, breathing deeply. He was relaxing slowly.

"What happened?" She asked, her voice a mere whisper.

"Lots of shit you're better off not knowing."

"I'll find it out anyway, sooner or later."

"No, you won't. We're not going to sleep together before we have our heads sorted out."

"Sleep together? Was that an offer?" She asked, trying to ease him with joking. Slight smile tugged his lips.

"You never know… Would you like it to be?"

"Oh, no, mister. I'm immune to your charm."

"So they all say. Haven't met the one able to resist yet."

"How would you know? What about me?"

"I'm already between your knees."

"Logan!"

She had to resist the urge to slap him. Instead she ruffled his already tousled hair gently, much like he had done to her earlier. He let out a satisfied sigh and leaned heavier on to her. That sigh shot straight at her stomach, igniting something she hadn't even been aware existed. She flinched, trying to move to a more comfortable position.

"Am I too heavy?" Logan asked, starting to get up. She held on to him and pulled him back.

"No. Not at all."

"Do you… Ah…"

"Do I what?" Marie asked. Logan shook his head.

"Nothing. Did you sleep well? I mean before this shit…"

"Like a baby. Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"What is it with redheads? Is it because of Jean?"

He obviously hadn't expected that question. He wrinkled his forehead and rubbed his stubbled chin.

"You don't have to answer, I was just… Just making conversation," she said quickly, cursing her curiosity silently.

"No, no, it's a good question. Let me think about it…"

He hadn't finished his thinking when door suddenly opened. Skulking figure stepped in and turned on the lights. Sabretooth.

"Well, well… Isn't that nice! Runt and his bitch. You don't mind if I borrow her for a while, Wolverine?" Humongous mutant growled, grabbed Logan and threw him against the wall. Logan smashed against the mirror that broke, and he fell to the floor escorted by small, flashing shards of silver and glass. Before he had the time to get his bearings Sabretooth picked up the TV from the corner and threw it at him. TV hit Logan in the head and he fell limp to the floor.

She had tried to escape through the window, but it was bolted shut too tightly. And Sabretooth had apparently made his homework. He was covered from head to toe. Only skin visible was his face. And truth to be told she wasn't that eager to touch him anyway. She had already gotten enough troubles from her touch with Logan. So there was very little she could do when Sabretooth grabbed her, slung her over his shoulder and walked out from the door to a black van that was waiting outside.


	11. Chapter 11

It was already too late. He knew it when he woke up and couldn't detect the scent of exhaust from the van with which they had taken Marie away. He sat up slowly. Let his guard down, opened the barriers in his mind. Slammed them tightly shut when utter chaos and terror coming from Marie threatened to drown him. He'd have to stay focused if he was going to help her.

He threw his clothes on and sat on the bed. He would need some information. And only person able to provide the information he needed was Marie. Who was too scared to do much anything else than scream when he opened the connection between them again. He cringed. He'd have to be fast before she infected him with swirl of terror that was roiling in her mind.

"Oh, fuck… Calm the fuck down already!" From the looks of things she wasn't even in the machine yet. He tried to convey her assurances. He'd come and get her. She wasn't alone. He'd be with her. And if she didn't stop that fucking screaming and crying at this instant he was going to spank her black and blue next time he saw her. When everything else failed he turned to his last resort.

"Fine. You asked for this, kid…"

She didn't know where she was. She couldn't see her surroundings due to a black hood somebody had pulled over her head. From the rocking motion and the sound of engine she could tell she was probably in some sort of a boat or a ship. Logan had tried to contact her several times, but she was too scared to concentrate on anything else than to the sound of footsteps around her. Heavy boots that had to belong to the Sabretooth. Bare feet. Probably belonged to the blue-skinned woman she had seen back at home. Mystique. And then lighter steps she couldn't pin down the owner of.

Magneto? Could it be him? What were they going to do to her? Logan had said it was probably nothing nice. She tugged the plastic strap that bind her wrists together, trying to slip free, but it wasn't working. It was hard to breathe, the cloth covering her head was too thick, she was going to suffocate soon and then she wouldn't have to worry anymore… Strong hands grasped her shoulders, and suddenly she wasn't alone under the hood. Somebody was there, licking and nuzzling her neck and earlobe. She let out an involuntary moan.

She'd suffocate, but somehow she found it hard to care when she felt those hands sliding down from her shoulders to her front, kneading her breasts from under her shirt and bra. Warm skin touching hers, drawing lazy patterns and tugging her nipples gently, soothing over trembling muscles, down her sides and abdomen.

And fuck if he wasn't getting a hard-on. Groping a chick probably fraction of his age that he wasn't even that attracted to, and not really even groping, just teasing with his mind. It had been probably the stupidest idea he had ever gotten. Well, scratch that. Stupidest idea had been to get involved with her shit at all, but at least he got her attention. She wasn't screaming anymore.

He stood up and adjusted his jeans. Damn things were going to be the death of his some day. Tried to contact Marie again. And it was his turn to moan. He nearly toppled over when her arousal flooded in to him, turning his legs wobbly and making all the blood from his brain rush to lower parts of his anatomy. He leaned his forehead against the wall and screwed his eyes tightly shut, trying to focus on more important things than what she right now wanted to do more than anything. She must have seen something. Anything to help him pinpoint her location.

"Come on, Marie… I promise to fuck the living daylights out of you later, just show me what I need…"

Hands were gone. She was whimpering slightly. She could hear Sabretooth and Mystique laughing softly for her efforts to get her hands and legs free. Logan was still inside of her. He was looking for something. The bastard. Getting her all riled up and then turning all professional on her. Sure. She tried to reveal every bit of information about her surroundings she had managed to gather, but it wasn't much. And it was hard to keep thinking her impending doom when she could feel through the bond how much the mental foreplay had affected to him.

She took the sounds and scents, the feel of the floor underneath her, and shoved them to the front in her mind. Logan rushed forward, grabbed the information, and then he was gone. Gone as if she had imagined everything that had happened.

She was in a boat. And since it had been Sabretooth that took her, it was fair to assume that she was in Magneto's boat. Buckethead owned a small yacht. He'd have to ask Xavier's help.

"As if everything wasn't fucked up enough as it is…" Asking Xavier would mean asking the X-Men. Jean. Ororo. Pansy-boy AKA Scott. But he didn't have much of a choice. He didn't have any delusions of the outcome if he tried to go after Marie alone. Magneto would turn him to cubistic lawn ornament faster than he could spell adamantium endoskeleton. And Logan was rather fond of his straight limbs and vertebra.

He chose Xavier's private number from his cell phone. Sissy-ass plastic toy professor had shoved him few years' back. He had been thinking of getting rid of it, but the freaking gadget had proven to be useful on several occasions. Now it could mean the difference between life and death for Marie, and if he knew Magneto at all, most likely it would mean the same for several unsuspecting bystanders as well.


	12. Chapter 12

"Happy now?" Scott was standing at the doorstep of the Blackbird, blocking his way. Logan shrugged his shoulders. He wanted to swipe off the 'oh-I'm-so-disappointed-in-you' –look off from Scott's face. Just one decent swing and the brat would go down.

"She was safe with us. If you hadn't gotten the bright idea to run Magneto wouldn't have gotten his hands on her."

"Fuck you, Summers. Save the lecture for later…" He grunted brushing past the fuming leader of the X-Men. It wasn't like he had forced the kid to run with him.

"I will. Wolverine?"

"Yeah?"

"Catch!"

He resisted the urge to duck when something black sailed through the air in to his direction. Heavy bundle of black leather hit him on the chest and fell on the floor at his feet. He cocked his head, eyeing the bundle.

"Put it on. You don't want to get caught by the friendly fire," Scott warned him before stomping to the cockpit.

"Friendly fire, my ass…" Summers would have liked nothing better than to fry his sorry ass. He picked up the leather. Opened the bundle and grimaced.

Kevlar reinforced leather sat on him snuggly, like a second skin. He had to admit it looked sexy as hell, but there ended the benefits. Uniform restricted his every move, threatening to strangle him if he as much as breathed the wrong way. He crouched, stretched his legs and arms, leather creaking alarmingly.

"For heaven's sake… This is just stupid and childish. Here, let me give you a hand…" Jean clasped his shoulder and turned him around. He could feel her hands on his back. Something sharp sliding along the seams of the uniform on his upper back. Suddenly breathing and moving got easier.

"I opened some seams. We'll have to order you a new suit once we get back home."

"Thanks…"

"Professor tracked down Mystique. Apparently Magneto trusted her enough to reveal his whole plan to her. He has built a machine that creates radiation that causes mutations to ordinary people. He's planning to test it to the city of New York," Ororo explained.

"But the machine is so powerful that it'll kill the person using it. And the only one capable of operating it is Magneto himself. He's going to make Marie absorb his powers and use her for the test. If everything works as he planned it, he's going to build even more powerful machine, powerful enough to mutate the whole world and use it by himself."

Logan was sitting next to Jean, getting more and more confused by every passing minute. Magneto's plan was clear to him, as were the ramifications of his success. What puzzled him was his own state of mind. Lax, carefree attitude towards Jean. The most attractive redhead he had lain his eyes on ever, and he was actually participating to conversations around him, and keeping his eyes up on her face instead of devouring every inch of that perfect body of hers with his gaze. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Wolverine? Is Marie with you?" Jean asked. He shook out from his stupor and raised his brow.

"With me? What the fuck are you talking about? If she was with me we wouldn't be sitting here!" He grunted.

"I meant the bond. I can sense your shields are up. Is she with you?" Jean clarified her question.

"No. But she knows we're coming for her."

"It probably would be a good idea if you kept in contact with her. We could get more information that way," Jean suggested.

"It's hard to concentrate if she's in my head…"

"Stop whining. It'll get easier only if you start using the bond," Jean snapped. Logan snorted.

"Last time I checked she was so fucking scared and terrified…"

"Open the connection."

"Was that an order?"

"We need more information. We know Magneto mounted his machine on top of the Statue of Liberty, but we don't know who's with him."

"Oh, shit…"

Fear. Confusion. Lust. Screaming. Hands tightly secured. Feet bound. Help. Help! I don't want to be here, somebody help me, get me out of here I'm so scared this hurts just get me out!

She was utter mess. Just few moments ago somebody, probably Sabretooth had grabbed her and carried her to somewhere. Space she was in now was small and enclosed. She could hear the sound of her own ragged breathing echoing from the walls surrounding her. Her feet were still tied together. Her hands were tied apart, on both sides of her body, somewhere above her head. She was alone. She had tried to reach Logan through the bond several times, but he refused to let her in. When she felt a slight nudge on the bond, she rushed forward with everything she got, determined to get through this time. She wanted to get away from here. She wanted to feel safe. She had expected to collide and bounce back as soon as she reached him, but this time there was no barrier, and suddenly she was inside of him.

"Oh, fucking Christ!" She barged in like a rhino, stumbling and tearing through every obstacle on her way. His head snapped backwards, colliding against the backrest of his seat. His fingers dug deeply in the armrests, and his claws tore their way out, ready tear in to his attacker.

Marie. It was just Marie. He clamped down his base instinct and retracted his claws, wiping off small trickle of blood from his upper lip with the back of his hand. Her abrupt and less careful approach had broken something and he could feel burning, tickling sensation of his healing inside of his head. Now she was hiding. Scared of his first instinctual reaction, curled away from his view. Quiet as a mouse. It suited him well. Gave him the freedom of sorting out emotions and images she had dragged in.

"Wolverine?" Jean.

"Shut up. I'm kind of busy."


	13. Chapter 13

Few moments later he was none the wiser than earlier. Marie was too panicked to observe her surroundings thoroughly enough, and he had gotten a strong impression that she was isolated from the Magneto's group already. She was in the machine.

"Step on it, Summers!" They may have had only few minutes left before Magneto would power up Marie and force her to act.

"Why don't you go outside and give us a push?" Scott snarled through the intercom.

"Very funny…" Logan grunted, turning his attention back to Marie.

She was calmer now. Able to form coherent thoughts. And scared out of her wits. He could feel her fear churning though him, curling to the base of his spine. He could smell his own reaction to it, as well as the anxiety radiating from Jean, Scott and Ororo, and it only intensified cold, paralyzing grip of terror from his gut.

"Stop being so fucking afraid, kid…" He whispered.

"I'll tear Magneto to shreds personally when we get there. You have nothing to be afraid of…" It wasn't helping. Marie could sense his insecurity over that particular promise.

"After all, we have some unfinished business. Sabretooth kind of interrupted something…" He murmured, fully aware of amused looks on both Jean and Ororo's faces.

"I never did answer to that question of yours. You do want to know the answer?" He whispered. Marie was getting curious.

"And I made you another promise. Can't really follow through with it if you go and croak on me. Not that you don't have a great body, but I'd prefer you'd be in it."

"Great body? So I'm not a boobless scrawny brat?" She giggled hysterically, noise echoing from the wall around her. Again she could feel warm hands on her, sliding over her breasts. Touch was only fleeting caress, meant to assure her from Logan's opinion about her.

"How do you do that? Like this?" She asked, trying to mimic his actions.

"Hands off, girly. This fucking uniform is tight enough already… and unlike you, I have an audience. Who are getting little too interested about this." He could feel her laughing, and her hands reaching for him again. It was impossible to dodge the slow, sensual caress, running from his head to his toes. And it was impossible to contain the scream that tore from his throat when he could suddenly feel Magneto's electrified presence mingling rapidly with Marie.

"What's this? A bond? With… With Wolverine?" She was struggling against Magneto's hold from her, but old mutant's grip from her hardened as soon as he realized he could use the bond to his advantage.

"No! Don't you dare to touch him!" She wrenched herself out of Logan's mind and felt the shields slamming shut behind her.

"My dear boy… How original of you to use the metal from your bones to cover your inner self…" Magneto gasped. She could tell he was weakening from the outside, but on the inside he was getting stronger. And reaching towards Logan through her.

Old mutant was tearing through his defenses like they were made out of butter, wrecking havoc, forcing him to retreat. His mind was as useless as the metal buried inside of him against Magneto. Man had lived too long, fought too long and gone through unspeakable hell. He could feel Jean trying to get in, but his shields blocked her.

Suddenly Magneto froze. Logan could feel him, hovering confused, and fearful, torn between destroying him and escaping. At the door. Door to his dream.

"Fuck you, Buckethead. Curl up and die!" He wrenched the door open with the last remaining strength, and the creature from his dream charged forward, hungry for fresh blood.

Magneto let go of her and backed off abruptly, leaning against the wall of the machine. He was pale as a sheet. He stumbled out and closed the door behind him, leaving her in to darkness again. Something was coming through the link. She could feel it approaching.

"Logan?" Suddenly he was there with her, demanding that she raised her shields immediately.

"Shields! The fucking shields, kid! Now!" With the creature running loose in his head it wasn't safe for her anymore. There was no telling what would happen if the terror from his dream get inside of her. And she was too shaken, too confused to do much else than just to cringe back when he tried to make her understand why it was so important to raise those fucking shields of her because he was too tired and hurt to protect her, too scattered and messed up.

"Let me…" Jean stepped in as soon as he lowered the tattered fragments that were left of his shields.

"Watch it. It'll tear you apart…"

"I know what I'm doing. Just relax, Logan. And tell Marie I'm here. I don't want to scare her."

"I'll do that. Jean… Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah… Remember this next time when you get the urge to stare at my breasts," telepath muttered, already deeply immersed to his scarred mindscape.

He leaned back and closed his eyes. Jean had done this before. She had helped to create the prison for his nightmares. She knew what she was doing. And he probably deserved any kind of revenge she decided to extract from every leer and lusting stare he had cast towards her during years he had known her. As long as Jean managed to keep Marie safe from the monstrosity lurking inside of his head he was willing to grant her full entry and reigns over him.

"Come out, come out, where ever you are…" He could hear Jean muttering under her breath. He cracked one eye open. She was sitting opposite him, eyes closed, lips parted, deep line of concentration etched on her forehead. Thin sheen of sweat was gathering over her brow.

"It's coming. Stop shouting."

"I'm ready. Come on, bitch… Come to mama…"

"Jean? Remember, it's part of me. I can feel everything you do to it…"

"I remember, I remember…"

"Oh, shit. Just try not to mess me up too bad, okay?"

"It's here."


	14. Chapter 14

It was barging through his mind, not dressed to scrubs anymore. It had chosen much more heinous appearance. Logan winced. It looked like him. Just after he had escaped from the lab. Hands and naked, tormented body covered with blood, claws flashing, and maniacal gleam in its dark eyes. And Jean just stood on her ground, head slightly tilted to the side, hands spread out like wings. There was a red halo around her. Dark red halo, spreading slowly outside. Nightmare was approaching fast, but not fast enough. Jean nodded, fixing her gaze to the creature. Fiery red shot out from her, engulfing the creature completely and throwing it backwards, stunning it temporarily.

"Fuck!" It felt like she had just slapped him hard. Hard enough to shatter every bone from his face.

"I could use some help in here…"

"Oh, really?"

"It's down, but I don't know how long. You have to build the prison again. Hurry. You can't take another hit from me."

It took him virtually forever to erect the walls of the prison again. It took even longer to imagine the door and the complex locking mechanism that kept it closed. He could feel Jean; see her, hovering closer when the last lock slammed shut.

"Get out, Jeannie. Enough is enough. It's too crowded in here…" He wanted to curl in to the furthest corner, alone. Enough was really enough. Too much. Jean leaned closer and ruffled his hair when he opened his eyes.

"We did good, Wol… Logan. We did good. But you have to let me stay for a while. I have to go and see if Marie needs my help."

"Fuck… Can't you go straight to her?" He had gotten enough from these mind games.

"I can't. Magneto must have made his machine from the same material he made his helmet. I can't get through it on my own. I need to use your bond with her."

"It's not like it's some fucking mental highway…"

"I know. Believe me, I know. It's the most personal thing two people can share. And right now it's the only way to reach Marie."

"Fine. And you remember this when I get caught from staring…"

Somebody was coming. It wasn't Logan. It wasn't his nightmare either. She could feel Jean approaching. Magneto in her head was cackling and muttering, trying to force her to start the machine.

"Jean! We're here. What ever you're doing it has to wait!" Scott shouted from the cockpit. Jean flinched and came out of the trance-like state she had fallen.

"How was she?" Logan asked. As soon as Magneto had taken over Marie it was too dangerous for him to try to contact her.

"Just fine. I have to go and talk to Scott…" Jean said avoiding his gaze, stood up and brushed past him half running.

"Scott! You have to fly us to the torch! Magneto's already starting the machine!"

As soon as he felt the first telltale signs of the pull he concentrated to his shields. He wanted nothing more than to tear them down and go to Marie, but if he did that, they would loose. That goddamned machine would draw him in as well, and then there would be nobody left to pick up the pieces and repair the damage.

"Jean?" He called the telepath. She returned to him.

"Scott's flying us directly to the torch. Ororo will take over from there. I'll distract Magneto with Scott. You need to get to Marie as fast as you can. Try to get her out of the machine."

"I'll get her out of it. Just… Shit. Just take care of her for me, okay?"

"You don't have to ask. You know that."

"I know. Thanks… And Jeannie?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry. I know I have been an asshole."

"Don't fret over it. You wouldn't be you if you weren't the pain in the ass 24-7."

Magneto was reaching for the control pads of the machine with her hands, forcing her to place her palms over cool and smooth metal. Machine started humming and vibrating. Suddenly walls from around her exploded, and she could see her surroundings. Sickeningly beautiful night sky, laden with stars. They seemed to shine more brightly than ever before, burning through her retinas and tickling the back of her skull. She could feel Magneto's joy over his success, and slight pang of remorse from the way he had been forced to use her as a substitute. She could see something bulky and black hovering in the air, next to her. It took her a while to realize what it was. The Blackbird. Logan was really here. For a moment she had doubted her sanity. She could see Magneto standing under the machine, guarding it. Then blue light, even brighter than the stars covered her field of vision, cocooning her to a painful, suffocating embrace.


	15. Chapter 15

The girl was screaming her lungs out. The girl. Just a girl. Right now his first priority was the machine. Scott lunged to the right with Jean, his visored gaze locked to Magneto who was already eyeballing Logan with amused and hungry look on his face. He stopped long enough to flip a finger towards the old mutant and started climbing towards the base of the machine. He hated the fact that he'd have to trust Scott to cover his back. He hated the fact that he could do it so easily, because Scott was a Boy scout with the capital B, following instructions and plans to a T. Had it been the other way around, him watching over Scott, he'd let the brat suffer awhile before getting in to business.

"Guess there's a reason why they picked him as the leader…" He muttered, reaching for a better hold of the railing surrounding the torch. Suddenly he was violently wrenched away, thrown backwards through the air.

He could see Jean and Scott below him, wrapped tightly together with iron bar from the torch's railing, facing each other. Mystique walked to them and took Scott's visor. And Magneto was waving at him, wide, evil smile on his face.

"Meep, meep… Shit. Don't have even an umbrella…" Yep. Wile Y. Coyote had things far better organized than him at the moment. If he was lucky, Magneto would settle just dropping him to the ground somewhere down, very down below.

Magneto in her head was the first to go when machine started to draw out energy from her. For that she wasn't sorry. No more dry and clinical voice telling her how this must be done for the sake of the brotherhood of all mutants. No more pair of ghostly hands holding hers. And finally she was able to reach out for Logan without fearing that Magneto would get to him through her. She wanted to feel him, see him for the one last time. She'd die soon, but she wanted to be with him when it happened. She wanted to apologize him for bringing him in to this mess. And maybe, just maybe feel his touch for the one last time.

He felt it when Magneto let him go. Sudden jolt and the feel of weightlessness, and he was falling rapidly. Another jolt, gripping his stomach, threatening to turn him from inside out. Yet the hold wasn't restrictive as Magneto's had been. Jean. She had caught him again. And again he was sailing through the air with sickening pace, towards the Blackbird this time. Mystique was approaching Jean and Scott again. As he watched the blue bitch raised her hand and slapped Jean, sending her head reeling backwards from the force of the blow. Jean's knees buckled, and if Scott hadn't stood on his ground, they would have both toppled over. Now Jean was hanging from the metal bar, unconscious. And Logan was on freefall again.

She met his shields. He had closed her out again. She threw herself against the barrier in Logan's mind with everything she had left, but barrier refused to give.

He fell smack dab on the middle of Blackbird's windshield. Front of the plane was flat and long enough, but tilted slightly downwards from both sides. For a moment his eyes locked with Ororo, then he started to slide. His fingers sought purchase from the flat, smooth surface in vain. There was nothing to grasp. He was going to fall for real. There was nothing Ororo could do, and Jean out of the count there was nobody except Magneto able to stop his fall, and he had a nagging suspicion that the old fart was not going to give a rat's ass if he fell.

Leather of the suit slowed the slide a bit, gave him few extra seconds to think. When his feet slid off and rest of his lower body fallowed he unsheathed his claws.

"There better be nothing important under the hood…" He muttered, plunging his claws through the plating of the jet. He could feel the hum of electricity going through his body when he severed some wires, but jet seemed to be okay. He managed to drag himself back on the hood of the jet and knocked on the window.

"Scott and Jean are down! We have to get rid of Magneto! How's your aim, Weathergirl?" Ororo shook her head and spoke, mouthing every word as clearly as she could.

"You're afraid you hit Scott or Jean?" Logan asked. Crap. There was no time to be afraid now! Cloud of radiation was spreading outwards with every passing second, and Marie's cries were weakening. He raised his fists, sheathed and unsheathed his claws.

"Me! Aim to me!"

On several occasions in the past he had noticed that for some reason lightnings found him irresistible. Maybe this time he could use it as his advantage. He stood up on shaky legs.

"Goddamned but I hate heights!" He lunged towards Magneto whose whole attention was now riveted to his cursed machine. Mystique tried to stop him by stepping between him and the old mutant. His greater weight made them both topple over and roll to Magneto. Logan moved quickly, grasping from Mystique with one hand and wrapping his other hand around Magneto's ankle. Magneto turned o look at him, surprised look on his face.

"Say bye-bye, Buckethead…"

Lightning Ororo had called upon him coursed through his bones and muscles. For a moment it felt like he was flying again. He could feel Mystique's wrist and Magneto's ankle shatter when electricity made the small muscles of his fingers coil and cramp tighter than the string of a violin. Charge left him, flowed to its intended targets. Both Magneto and Mystique slipped from his grasp from the force of the blow.

He didn't know if they were dead. He didn't know if Jean and Scott were okay. Both issues he didn't particularly care right now. From this angle he couldn't see how far the radiation had already spread, but Marie had stopped screaming altogether.


	16. Chapter 16

He reached for the remains of the railing still hanging from the torch, intending to drag himself up to the machine. Then let go and glanced over his shoulder.

"And if any of you schmucks as much as moves or even fucking breathes the wrong way, I'll come and chop you up or hurl on you. That goes for Jeannie, too, Scott. Tell her if she wakes up and gets a bright idea to help me up there."

That said he grabbed the railing again and braced his feet against the torch's wall. And closed his eyes. He really didn't need to see how high above the ground he was. And his hand-eye coordination was shot to hell anyway due to electric shock he had received earlier. When he cracked his eyes open partially to estimate the distance between him and the base of the machine he could see only non-existent stars and weird, swirling light patterns.

With Magneto unconscious he risked a quick peek from Marie through the bond. Force of the machine nearly made him loose his grip from the slippery railing, and he slammed the shields shut.

"We're getting good at this shielding business, kid…" He gasped, pulling himself over the railing. For a moment he could only lay at her feet.

So small and pale. Face ashen. White streaks marring cascade of shining brown hair at her forehead.

He sat up and fell flat on his back again when he felt strong gust of wind and something hard swiping against the tip of his nose.

"What the fuck…" When he concentrated hard enough he could see some kind of rings spinning around the machine and the girl shackled to it. Inch closer and they would have nudged him over the railing.

"Nice. What the fuck do I do now?" He reached with his hand carefully. Rings were spinning so rapidly that they were practically invisible. He could feel the current of air their movement created. He rolled little further and rose on his feet, eyeing the machine, calculating the odds.

"Fuck it." Calculus really hadn't ever been his favorite way of approaching problems. He unsheathed claws from his right hand and stepped closer.

"Here goes nothing…"

He hadn't met a material his claws weren't able to cut through. To his relief Magneto's machine wasn't an exception to that rule. First of the rings hit him hard, throwing his hand away, and it fell numb to his side. He unsheathed the claws from his left hand, and hit towards spinning nothingness with everything he had left. At first he could feel some resistance, then the ring started to give in, sliding over his claws with sickening screech of metal on metal. Machine was slowing down. Suddenly both rings stopped. Top parts of them started to slide outwards, and the strange, bluish glow disappeared. Steady whirring and humming stopped abruptly.

It took him few seconds to realize that it was over. Machine scrapped, Magneto and Mystique unconscious or dead. And Marie?

He stepped over debris fallen from the rings of the machine. Girl was hanging between two metal pillars, hands shackled to them with metal manacles. He couldn't hear her breathing. He couldn't hear her heartbeat. He kneeled in front of her and circled her waist with his left hand. Cut through the manacles with slightly unsteady right hand. She fell on his lap, whole body limp, open eyes staring to nowhere and to everywhere.

"Don't you fucking dare to die on me now. It wasn't that fun to float around and get electrocuted…" He shook her carefully. Everything he didn't know about traditional CPR could have easily filled up a library. And only doctor on board in this fucking flight was currently unconscious.

"Okay. You know the drill, kid. Take what you need." He yanked off his glove and placed his hot and sweaty palm against her cold and dry cheek. And nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.

He let his shields down, reaching her through the bond. He met only darkness from where she had been. Only silence where her thoughts had been buzzing just few hours ago like rabid ants.

"Come on, kid! I swear I'll fucking piss on your grave if you die now!" No. Not really. He grabbed her tighter and tucked her head under his chin, bare skin of her face resting comfortably against equally bare skin of his throat.

"You know… Had it been Jean or any other redhead for that matter in here instead of you… I'm not going to lie. I would have tried. I would have tried to save her. But you made me try harder. Could you… Could you try harder? For me?"

When her skin reacted and the pull started it was weak. Instead of earlier gut wrenching pain he felt only unfamiliar drowsiness settling over him.

"That's it… Stay with me…" He tried to murmur encouraging words to her, but soon it became impossible to speak. He lacked the strength to do that. He was sliding slowly on his back, clinging to Marie for the dear life, determined to keep the skin contact long enough to rouse her.

When sudden rush of life flooded through the link and he could feel the confusion radiating from her he let go. No use to get himself killed. He pushed her off from him, trying to stay conscious long enough.

"Kid?" No answer.

"Marie?" No answer.

"Fucking talk to me!" Darkness was creeping over his field of vision. He felt like he was lying on top of cotton balls, floating and spinning around slowly.

"Logan?"

"Get us home, kid." His last thought shut the lights before it left the building.


	17. Chapter 17

He came partly back in to his senses when he felt hands around him. Scott. The man was dragging his carcass over the Blackbird's wing, huffing and panting like a racehorse.

"You weigh a ton. Have you ever considered laying down the beer?"

"F you, Summers… Drop me and I'll tear you a new one…"

"Before or after you thank me for saving your hairy ass from even hairier bastard? Sabretooth showed up. Thank God Marie had already given back my visor."

"She alright?"

"Marie?"

"No, Jean… Marie of course… Is she?"

"Alright? Better than. And worried as hell. Your heart stopped for a moment. Had to kick you few times to get it started again."

"Kicked me… Thanks a bunch, Summers…" He tried to laugh at the image that rose to his mind. Fearless leader of the X-men dancing around him trepak, main theme from The Nutcracker flowing in the background.

"I can't even begin to describe how good it felt to get in some good, solid kicks…" Was he actually joking? Logan cracked one eye open and met Scott's smiling face.

"Go back to sleep, beast boy. We'll take care of you."

He was so goddamned tired that it was impossible to wake up when he felt soft caress sliding through his hair, fingers massaging his scalp. He let out a soft sigh and let the feeling of the touch course through his whole body, relaxing tightly coiled muscles and tendons. He knew the person sitting next to him, knew her from the scent. Marie.

Fingers rubbed small circles, sliding gradually from the top of his head down to his temples and the nape of his neck. His head lolled forward when the thick muscles in his neck turned to butter under her ministrations. His forehead ended up against something warm and soft. It took him a while to realize he was leaning against her breasts. He didn't mind a bit.

Those fingers continued their slow descent to his shoulders, his upper back and chest. All the while rubbing and kneading in small circles, loosening bunched and knotted muscles and nerves. His skin that had felt cold, dead and clammy was slowly warming up under her touch. He was about to ask if he should move, turn around because there was this really tight spot at his lower back when he felt her hands sliding over it, digging in and turning it to jelly. No need to move, then. Problem taken care of.

Hands turned to work on his sides, grasping and kneading tightly coiled bunch of muscles under his arms, the ones connecting them to his back and shoulderblades. He yelped silently from surprise when she accidentally hit a nerve connected to his claws, and sharp metal sprouted out. He was about to warn her when he could feel her moving, pushing his head and torso backwards. It was easier to comply than to resist.

She kept massaging him, giving her attention to the muscles on his stomach. It tickled, but he kept still, not wanting it to end. He couldn't remember when was the last time he had gotten this thorough and gentle attention from anybody.

Hands were sliding lower, over his hips and thighs. He waited for the inevitable gasp and hard slap on the cheek. Any time now, because there was no way in hell she could miss the evidence of how much exactly he was enjoying the attention she was raining on him. That slap never came. She might as well have slapped him for the good measure, though, while she was at it. There was no reaction from her part and she was practically straddling his erect cock.

Lower, lower the hands went, over knees and ankles, down to his toes. Even from there she managed to find new spots to release pressure from his body, pushing buttons more skillfully than fully trained physician.

Then, right when he thought it was over, something warm and wet wrapped around the tip of his leaking cock. Lips. And tongue slithering over. He was boneless, too relaxed to move or do anything else but to just moan quietly when hands rubbed his abdomen and caressed his balls. For a moment he was slightly worried. Something didn't quite add up. But who the fuck was he complaining when a pretty girl wanted to take care of him?

She kept alternating between licking and sucking, hot tongue teasing the tip of his cock and sliding up and down of his shaft, fingers cupping and rubbing everything at their reach. He wanted to grab her. He wanted to thrust deeper. He wanted her to suck harder, because the slow, gentle pace she had chosen was driving him insane.

He found it impossible to form coherent thoughts, let alone speak up his mind when she suddenly changed her approach. Lips and tongue retreated, only to be replaced with something slick, wet and tight. He could feel her thighs squeezing his hips. Her moving above and around him. He wanted to open his eyes, but somehow he felt it wasn't a good idea. He stayed still, blind to the world, and let himself drown to sensations of her.

She was riding him slowly, grinding against him, his cock buried deep inside of her. Taking her time. Well, he wasn't in a hurry. He had all the time in the world.

He didn't have any idea where he was, but at the moment he didn't particularly care. For all he knew they could have been fucking in the middle of the front lawn of the mansion while rest of the residents were watching and cheering. It didn't matter. He was exactly where he needed to be right now, buried to the hilt in to Marie's silky core. She was trembling around him, her internal muscles already starting to clamp down on him. Sure sign that she wouldn't last much longer.

Sheer force of her orgasm triggered something inside of him, releasing all his doubts and sending them careening to the front of his mind. He bolted up opening his eyes, finding himself sitting on a gurney at the med lab, small giggle echoing in the back of his mind.

"Shit…" He rubbed his face, taking in his surroundings. At least there hadn't been any witnesses. He swung his legs over the edge of the gurney, a move he regretted instantly when it caused his uniform squeeze his aching cock and balls rather painfully. There was a small sheet of paper on a table beside the gurney, his name written on it. He took it and turned it around.

'You have been officially mindfucked. If you want some more, come and find me. PS. Bring a sheet and some condoms.'


End file.
